Jus Civile
by OscartheGreat
Summary: Harry had already headed one war and didn't want to head another. But a revolution? Now that he could do. But the deeper Harry goes the closer he comes to uncovering a secret that the Ministry would kill for. And not even he is safe. Possible HP/SS.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- Chapter one was redone, for anyone following the story, I didn't change very much just edited some mistakes and spaced out the paragraphs better. Enjoy.

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><p>Harry sighed, pulling on a bit of his short cut hair. Gone was the shaggy mass of locks he had worn throughout his adolescence, Hermione had convinced him to shave it close cropped and it was only now starting to grow back. He placed the book he had been pursuing closed on the end table next to the recliner, rue the day when he placed a book open with its spine bent. They didn't last long that way. His apartment was small, despite the mass inheritance he had come into, one bedroom, a small kitchenette two bathrooms and a living area. Hermione claimed that he lived as a pauper because he was afraid to live like a king. That was all rubbish of course. Harry lived the way he did because he thoroughly enjoyed a cramped lifestyle, it was the only one he had known and he was content with it.<p>

He stretched and his fingertips brushed the tops of the high arch doorway that led to his kitchen, Ron could grab it... easily. Such things had always frustrated Harry, he wasn't tall, but he wasn't short either. He fell somewhere in the middle, something women often reminded him was a less appealing trait in a _man_. He supposed it was because he was shoved up into a cupboard until age twelve. Such things would affect your growth, convergent evolution and all.

The kitchenette was sparsely decorated, a few tea mugs hung from hooks underneath the cabinet and a small fridge hid underneath a wine rack in the corner closest to the door. The pots and pans were stored underneath the stove, and a small breakfast nook was crowded into a corner next to the only window in the room. A cup of tea and some toast would be lovely, Harry decided, pulling down a mug and setting the teapot onto the stove. While the water heated he went to get the paper. Instead of having it delivered by owl Harry had requested it to be pushed into his mailbox by human means. Of course for the savior of the wizarding world, it was done with no complaint.

Harry liked his neighborhood. All the houses were small and jammed up next to one another, but they were sweet, one might even say adorable if one were so inclined. White picket fences, green lawns, small as they may be and neat, trimmed hedges. It was a beautiful place to live and it was all his. That was perhaps the most important thing to Harry, that it was his. No war had shaped his decision of moving here, no crazed lunatic influenced his reasoning for buying a muggle television. This was all purely his, not even Ron or Hermione had been allowed to come house hunting with him. The teapot whistled its discomfort and with a last breath of fresh air he returned to his house, paper underneath one arm.

"Morning, Tigger." Harry greeted his giant yellow-orange feline, after Hedwig he couldn't bring himself to purchase another owl. The cat had been perfect, not as needy or high maintenance as a puppy or dog and not as loving or loyal as an owl. It had been aloof and flicked its tail at him when they first met. He was perfect.

The cat rubbed its body over Harry's legs as he poured himself a cup of earl grey. Putting the mug on the table for the tea steep he went to get out the wet food for the cat. Tigger only got wet food once a day and after he finished it he would go back to ignoring Harry.

Cat fed and tea ready Harry settled himself down to read a bit of wizarding news. The front page featured an edited photo of him sitting in a coffee house with a severely blonde woman. The title read; _Harry Potter, dinning in France with Mystery Woman: Could this be the future Mrs. Potter?_ The titles had been getting less creative ever since Rita Skeeter had retired to the Caribbean, Harry snorted at the picture, funny him being in France at such a time and with a woman, not a month after he and Ginny had ended things because he wouldn't let her move in with him. She was a wonderful girl but horribly inpatient Ginny was. The story was too ridiculous to be worth reading; he flipped to the next page and froze with his mug against his mouth. _Ministry Officials Arrest Two Witches for the Conscious Engagement of Homosexual Depravity. _Harry gaped and sat a little straighter, now this was worth the read.

_Witches Marilynn Cook and Natalie Monson were arrested late last night after an anonymous tip informed officials that the two had been living together under suspicious terms, the tip also included photos taken through the witches bedroom window that depicted the couple engaging in acts clearly against Law 1374 of the revised wizarding constitution. The penalty for such a heinous crime is at the least a kiss from the dementor. Ms. Cook and Ms. Monson are currently in Auror holding and are awaiting their sentencing, with the evidence provided and the Council screaming for death, the outlook is grim for these criminals. Minister-_

Harry put the newspaper down with shaking hands. He knew that people hadn't always been friendly to homosexuals, even in the muggle world there were protests concerning those who slept with the same sex. But he hadn't known that in the wizarding world the punishment for such an "offense" was a dementor's kiss at the very least! His stomach turned and he pushed the tea away. He wasn't a homosexual but as long as it wasn't pushed upon him he didn't mind it, but to sentence someone to death, simply because they loved someone unconventional. It made him glad he hadn't eaten the toast because he was sure it would have come back up. A whooshing noise came from his living area.

The fireplace.

Stumbling a little with the weight of what he'd learned Harry made his way to the room to see Hermione's head bobbing up and down in the fire. It only bobbed when she was angry.

"Harry! Let me through the floo." The raven haired man nodded at once and waved his wand, which he always kept in his front pocket, to change the wards to key Hermione in. Seconds later the lion of a woman was pacing his small living space and hissing like a trapped cat about something to do with idiots. Wary to ask what was wrong; Harry decided to let her come to it on her own. He didn't have a long wait.

"Those bloody _stupid _bigots!" She elongated the word stupid so that it sounded to Harry a bit like "ste-ew-peed" he forced back a snort.

"What is it that Ron has done this time Hermione?"

"Not only Ron! The whole _bloody_ family, Harry, all of them! The whole _fucking _lot! This," She whipped out the newspaper from god knew where and shoved it into Harry's face, "What they are doing to those women is inhumane! Wrong, sick, evil! Not even muggles went this far Harry, not even muggles who are supposed to be the inferior species and yet here the witches and wizards are EXECUTING HOMOSEXUALS! And what did Ron and his family say when the saw the news? _Bloody, goddam _nothing, Ron even went to say that it served them right, that they deserved it. And everyone began to nod their heads like the agreed with this _lunacy_! It is absolutely mad Harry, mad I tell you. And then-then! They had the gall, the nerve to tell me that I was wrong, that I was the lunatic the crazy one. I cannot stay there Harry, I cannot marry someone who would condemn another simply for the person they fall in love with." Harry blinked and waited to see if that was the end of it. Hermione's chest was heaving and bright spots of red highlighted her cheeks like spilled ink on a table cloth. Her hair rose around her head giving her the look of an angry lion. He waited another beat in case she had something more to add and then began the process of calming her down.

"I know, I know Hermione, I was thinking the same thing when I saw the papers this morning. And Ron and the Weasleys are being right prats for agreeing with it." With Hermione it was always, less is better, agree with her, tell her you understand and let her work herself out of it. Too much consoling and she would turn her anger upon the consoler, not a pleasant experience. The woman sighed and threw herself down onto his couch, amazing considering how far away from it she was.

"It's horrible and the only ones who were sympathetic were the twins, mostly because I suspect George bats for the other team." Harry started, he had never suspected that, "I can't go back there Harry, I'll punch Ron in the face and scream at Molly and Arthur. Don't worry though, I know you like your space and privacy and I've already gotten everything set up with Pansy, I just wanted to talk to you." Harry nodded, of all the things he would never understand it was the friendship that had formed between Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger. According to her she had found Pansy crying in the bathroom at the Ministry, where Hermione worked, and ever since then had been great friends. Women were just like that, Harry rationalized, they see someone crying and all past crimes are forgiven.

"Alright, do you need anything, something to drink, eat perhaps?" Harry offered gesturing to the kitchenette. Hermione shook her head, and threw him a half smile.

"No, thank you but I told Pansy I would be over in five and it's already been fifteen, any later and I run the risk of being horribly rude." She gave him a brisk hug, "Take care of yourself alright, and don't let Ron bully you while I'm gone." A burst of green flames as his house was once again quiet and ordered.

Harry had to admit that this whole homosexual business had shaken him up a bit, he had no doubt that Ron would be storming through the fire soon ranting about Hermione leaving him over something stupid. Groaning he made his way to the kitchenette to finish his tea. He would need some caffeine to get him through encounters with both his friends today.

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><p>Severus Snape was angry. No more than that, he was livid and even that word could not fully grasp the extent of his rage. That law was as ancient as Dumbledore and even more unfashionable. Just as they were recovering from one war the Ministry wanted to send them into another? Pompous ignorant fools. Curse them all into the depths of hell. His potion bubbled over the sides of the cauldron dripping Pepper Up potion everywhere. Severus vanished it all with a sharp flick of his wand. He stormed up the stairs of his laboratory, token cloak billowing around his shoulders like some avenging angel. Minister Goode was an imbecile, unfit to rule over an army of sea slugs let alone the wizarding world. Bringing back old laws like this one, simply because of silly prejudices was immoral and foolish. The potions master had no doubt that the anonymous tip and photos had come from Goode's personal legion of spies. That man nursed a grudge against Ms. Cook as old as time. The woman had beaten him in an election before she retired and it had never sat well with him that a <em>woman<em> of all things had bested him.

House elves scampered from underneath the stomp of their master's feet as he made his way to the bedroom. He was in no mood to notice them and more than one of them remembered crushed fingers and bruised arms when they hadn't gotten out of the way fast enough.

_They will be hunting us now, just like the Jews were hunted._ He thought._ Sinking to the level of the people they always wanted to best. How wonderfully ironic._ He reached the door and quietly pushed it open; his temper was no reason to interrupt another's sleep. Lying in the middle of Severus's large bed was a man named Donald Rogers. They had met one another a long time ago, at a potions convention in America. He was bright and witty, not the best looking but when love comes over you that seems no longer necessary. Not that Severus was in love at first sight that would be unbecoming and entirely out of character. But he was certainly interested in the American at first sight. It was Donald who had approached Severus however, with the mad idea to make a potion for a muggle disease called cancer, something wizards were apparently immune to. They had worked on it for over three years together before the first glimpses of romance began to filter into their usual potions banter. From there it was simply a matter of courage; they had been partners for a year now. Partners. Donald hated that word, they were _lovers,_ according to him, it's that much more romantic Sev, he would always say. Severus indulged such childish displays only out of his love for the man.

He gently shook Donald awake, glowing a little inside when the man rolled over and cracked open his brown eyes at him.

"There has been some trouble, and if it continues on the path I believe it will, then there is just cause that it will affect us also. Meet me in the study when you are dressed, we have much to discuss." With that he left Donald to clean himself up at his own leisure. It gave him time to reflect on how he would approach the subject with his partner. Donald could be so… dramatic when the mood took him, which Severus had to admit, was more often than not.

The study was Severus's favorite room in the house. It was small enough to be comforting and yet large enough to be intimidating. All of his extensive potions library were housed in this room. The walls were a burnt auburn and all of the furniture was a deep mahogany. And yet the room never appeared dark, it was always light and airy, a great comfort when one is pouring over old tomes and researching a disease that only seemed to effect muggles and animals. The man poured out a glass of brandy for both Donald and he, despite the early hour.

Donald arrived much earlier than expected, the man was like a woman in the bathroom, five minutes meant twenty and just a second meant an hour. Severus had been expecting at least an hour.

"What is it that is so important to our lives that you got me up and about before seven and before a cup of coffee Severus?" He swept into the room and chose the seat furthest away, to display his irritation.

Severus gestured to the morning paper with a graceful wave of his hand. No other words were necessary. Donald picked up the Prophet and immediately skipped over the bit of drivel concerning the Potter boy. He found the article instantly and was immersed in reading for a quiet two minutes. Finished Donald folded the paper carefully and set it back upon the desk. Leaning back in his chair he examined Severus.

"Well?" Asked the former professor.

"Well what? Yes it is very unfortunate that those poor witches will most likely receive the dementors kiss, but at their tender age of one-hundred seventy and one-hundred seventy-six respectively, they would have known about that late addition to the constitution. It was their own folly that had them in this situation. I don't see what it has to do with us."

"Do you not?" Severus's voice was silky, "This is only the beginning of what will undoubtedly become a civil rights war. If the Ministry gets their way then it will be the wizarding equivalent of a second holocaust. We will be _hunted _Donald, and many wizards and witches would agree that our fates were no less than we deserved for our _transgressions_."

"You British take everything to a level it doesn't have to be at. Honestly, hunted, Severus? Do you hear yourself? All you need is a little rebellion, pick a nice leader and go to political war, sure there will be some casualties but did you expect there not to be? America had its own wizarding revolution headed by Harvey Milk in the seventies. Of course it didn't seem like much to muggle America but he did very much for wizarding America. Don't create drama where there is none Sev. Form a committee, elect a figure head and put everything to the public, everything will work out."

"How can you be so ignorant? Britain is not like America. In American there was no law allowing government officials to put homosexuals to death, this is a different situation, forming a committee would do nothing but make it easier for the Minister to find us and execute us."

"Then let's move to America. You can find a job as a potions teacher at one of the schools there and I can-"

"A teacher Donald? Have you been so wrapped up in yourself that you know absolutely nothing of me? I despise teaching, children and everything that goes with the profession, something which I have told you countless times as you seem adamant on bringing it up!" He didn't mean to snap, really, but his patience was thin as it was and Donald had the loveliest way of getting under Severus's skin when he wanted to.

"Very nice Sev, bite out insults to the only person that cares about you, perhaps I'll just go to America myself shall I? And leave you here with your make believe war." Donald curled his lip in distaste. This is how their arguments always went, Donald would upset Severus, Severus would snap and then Donald would hold over his head that he was the only one to tolerate the snarky potions master. Like teenage girls. Donald gave him a look and left the room, leaving Severus to fume in silence.

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><p>Reviews are much appreciated.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so instead of working on both chapter 2 and 3 so I could post them together, I focused on redoing chapter 2 so that I could give more time to chapter 3 in order to have it up by Monday. This chapter still isn't what I want it to be (and I put about 6 or 7 hours of effort into it collectively) so I will just assume it was not meant to be. However, it is MILES better than the previous version also it is almost 1,000 words longer yay! And I am semi-proud of it and really hope you guys like it and as promised, chapter 3 will be up on Monday.

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><p>Harry was sure that everyone in the pub was listening to Ron rant. It had been going on for over an hour, first it was about work which something Harry knew was only a cover for what was really bothering him. But then, slowly, the conversation had trickled down into Hermione.<p>

"She bloody overreacts to everything mate! I look at a girls bum when she walks by, Hermione snaps at me, I forget to fold my laundry, BAM, she's on my case. And now this nonsense? How can she do this to me Harry? Over a bunch of poofs and carpet munchers no less!" The redhead slammed his bottle of firewhiskey down, rattling the already suspicious table. Harry was trying to be a good friend and listen without bias, really he was. But sometimes Ron would say something highly inappropriate, giving him a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach, like eating something especially slimy.

"You can't tell me you agree with the Ministry on this Ron? The whole put homosexuals to death business? It's cruel and backwards." The raven haired man was nursing his butter beer; someone had to stay sober enough to apparate them home later and at the rate Ron was going... well, someone had to stay sober.

"Well, not whole heartedly, no. But what they're doing with one another in their freaky faggot orgies is unnatural, despicable. What if children see what they're up to, ay? Poisons their minds it does. The wizarding world would die out if it were up to _them_. Ministry's got it right by trying to ban it." Harry's mouth fell open, exposing pink insides. His look turned dark and he leveled Ron with the same stare he had given Voldemort right before he had killed him.

"Don't use that word around me Ronald. It makes you look like an ignorant bigot and it's just as bad as calling muggleborns mudbloods. I think it's time for you to retire before you do something truly unforgivable. I'll call the night bus for you shall I?" Ron sputtered spraying thick globs of firewhiskey over the table and, unfortunately, Harry. His face turned that awful shade of red he reserved for traitors and Harry knew he was about to begin yelling in earnest now.

"You're taking their side over mine? I'm your best friend, Harry! Or does that mean nothing to you? What has all the fame gone to your head and now you can't bear to defend me? I should have known better than to come to you, you and Hermione both are nothing but a couple of gay champions, I'm leaving!" He stood, flinging the edge of his robes behind him, in such a manner that Harry knew he could only have copied from their past potions professor, and stormed past Harry to the door, intentionally ramming him in the shoulder as he went. Harry rubbed his shoulder and sunk a little further into his seat, absently noting the dark looks he was receiving from the pubs patrons.

He supposed there were very few wizards around who cared about homosexuals, and Harry had just effectively ousted himself as one of them. A deep sigh pulled its self from his chest and crawled out of his throat. All he had wanted was a bit of quiet in his life. Retirement. Another exhale of air escaped his lips as he examined his hands. He had long fingers, but they were thick too. Not the slender length that he had always been jealous of Malfoy for possessing. They were calloused and weathered, an old man's hands. Or a carpenters. He traced the thick red scar that ran across his right palm, a gift from Bellatrix. He was still reviewing his hands as a way to pretend to be doing something when a long shadow fell over his table. Harry tensed and slowly raised his head, it was probably Ron coming back to apologize.

One look at the man told him differently.

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><p>Severus watched with narrowed eyes, hunched in his corner of the pub, as the Potter brat reprimanded his friend for the use of a derogatory word. He was surprised to find that the boy had some sense in him after all, something he would never have deduced during their years together at Hogwarts. But whilst he praised the child for his opinion in the matter of homosexuals, his way of showing support was brutish and horribly timed. The Leaky Cauldron was always a busy place, especially during the depths of Friday night, as it was now, and knowing that most wizards sympathized with the Ministry meant that Potter had now alienated himself. And of course he had to know that he was fairly alone in his beliefs, his friends outrageous yelling should have tipped him off, if nothing else. So that left incompetence as the reason behind his actions. And Severus hated incompetence.<p>

"Not that he wasn't doing a good job of alienating himself already, now this too." Severus muttered to his drink. As for why he himself was out sulking the streets and drinking himself into oblivion, well Donald had had a helping hand in that. Another row about moving to America and some such nonsense. He had wandered London for hours trying to calm himself down before he somehow found himself, with a brandy in hand, sitting in the Leaky Cauldron. How serendipitous that Potter would choose the very same pub to console his friend in. Severus pulled on a length of his inky hair, a habit of reducing stress he had since his early years. Perhaps the boy could be of use to him, he was a rather high ranking individual, Savior of the Wizarding World and all. Maybe if he approached him just right, he could be convinced to appeal to the Minister. But asking Potter for help was something he never wanted to do. Surely the boy would laugh and share the story of how his hated potions professor had come begging for help. No, he would not ask the boy for anything. Nothing was worth such guaranteed humiliation.

But, Donald...

Donald needed to be protected seeing as he was feigning ignorance on the pressing matters of Ministry law. And Harry Potter was the only one with enough influence to stop the law from worming its fingers too far into society. Only Potter. Well, he was already pissed drunk, so the liquor would save him some of his undoubted embarrassment. Before he could persuade his traitorous mind that this was an entirely terrible idea he found himself standing in front of Potters table. The boy looked at him with those eyes. Lily's eyes. And he almost lost his nerve and returned to his moping. But he was Severus Snape. He never lost his nerve. And so with all the dignity he could muster, he slid into the chair across from Harry folded his hands on the table in front of him and leaned forwards.

"I have come to proposition you."

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><p>"I have come to propose to you." Harry started, not only was his ex-professor speaking to him of his own free will, but now he was suggesting they marry? He shook his head and looked a bit closer and noticed the light film over the older man's eyes and how his hands shook just enough for Harry to see. Drunk, then. Defiantly.<p>

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't believe you truly meant to ask for my hand. Would you be _inclined_ to repeat what it was you wanted to say?" If Snape was going to present himself to Harry intoxicated, then he would take full advantage of it. Never say he wasn't one to jump at prime opportunities.

Snape closed his eyes and swallowed, Harry tried to hide his grin.

"Proposition," When his eyes opened they were clear, something which surprised Harry, he didn't know that you could force sobriety. He would have to learn how to do that, it would be _loads _of help. "I would like to offer you a proposition, if you are so _inclined_ to listen." Sober enough to mock his choice of words then, Harry thought to himself while picking idly at a loose thread on his sweater.

"Alright, what is it you want with me Snape?"

Snape gave him a long hard look, the kind of look he had given to reporters right after the fall of Voldemort when they'd asked him if he blamed himself for the death of Neville Longbottom. He shivered, it was a horrible look and one he did not like turned on him.

Without warning a privacy ward popped into being and Harry, having trained to be an Auror for an entire month, dropped to the ground and had his wand out and trained on Snape in less than a second. The man in question raised his eyebrow before leaning back in his chair.

"My, my. A bit jumpy are we? Relax Potter," Severus spat his name out as though it burned to say it, "It is only a privacy ward, so that we aren't overheard. One would think you spent your entire life being hunted by a crazed murderer the way you react to such a simple thing."

The raven haired man paused, had Snape just made a joke? Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cower. He chose to frown instead, his brow wrinkling, twisting his scar into a strange shape. He quickly counted the exits he could use incase Snap tried something weird before giving him his full attention. The man could not be trusted.

"Yeah, I've been told that before, but I think you're thinking of that Harry Potter bloke." That threw the potions master, Harry was glad to see, but only for a moment. It was all too soon that Severus Snape regained his composure and leveled him with a stare that could shatter diamonds.

"Pleasantries aside, I come to ask a favor-"

"Why should I grant you any sort of favor Snape? I already saved your life from the snake and from Voldemort and that incident last year that we promised not to speak of and from being thrown into Azkaban. If anything I should be the one asking _you _favors." He folded his arms over his chest. A position he knew would make him appear closed off.

"Regardless of the past, this does not involve only I, but thousands of homosexual wizards that are being inhumanely put to death all for what they were born as. Now, all I am asking is that you go to the Minister. Inform his _highness_ of your displeasure and I am sure they will fall all over themselves to accommodate you." Snape sniffed, and held his head at an odd angle. Harry thought he might be trying to look down to him.

He snorted, "So far all that has happened when I express where my consideration lies is that the room becomes a little more hostile to me. I doubt even my celebrity will change a view that has lasted hundreds of years Snape and it is quite unlike you to think that it would."

"So you will play the coward, the victim?"

"No, I will play the role of self-preservation. Something you might also wish to do if you had any sense left in you."

"Your life becoming uncomfortable matters little in the grand scheme of things boy. It is the principle of the matter that you should be worried about Potter, and with all of your influence it is the principle of the matter and the people that you should be concerned with."

"I like people better than principles, Snape. And _people _would hate me for the principle of the thing. I like my quiet life; I like not having to take sides in politics-"

"Don't presume to quote Wilde at me Potter. You do not have the option of not taking sides in politics child. You are Harry _bloody_ Potter, and you will always have a role whether you like it or not you were born to it. So why not use that power to help people who cannot help themselves?"

Harry narrowed his eyes to slits. Snape was beginning to sound an awful lot like Dumbledore; manipulative in such a way that one thought he really was doing good for the sake of good, instead of good for the sake of self. "I've had quite enough of being a savior, Severus Snape. Eighteen years worth of enough. While I will not conceal the fact that I am monumentally opposed to this law, I will _not _actively seek out the Minister to make it known. I think that's fair don't you? I think I have earned the right to cultivate a peaceful life for myself. I've already had to lead one war, sir, defeated one enemy, and I will not be coerced into leading another via emotional blackmail." With an almost contemptuous flick of his wand he vanished the privacy ward, "I'll keep in mind what you said, and I wouldn't mind being an out of the way helper. As far as this conversation goes however, I think we both know where the other stands and see no reason for it to continue."

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><p>Arrogant little- no, he had to be calm. If he started yelling now the option of using the boy would forever be lost. And Potter hadn't said he wouldn't help at all. Only that he wouldn't do what was asked of him. Perhaps because it was Snape who asked him. Not only that, but the child could spot manipulation from a mile away. A trait left over from his constant proximity to Albus Dumbledore he supposed. For now at least, he could accept Potters half agreement. He was sure that he would come around. The Ministry would not keep with nonviolence forever. The situation would soon reach a level of climax that would escalate to aggression. Potter would have to do something then; despite what the boy said, he still had a working hero complex. Something Severus could use to his advantage later on. He was leaving now, had he said something? Hopefully nothing important.<p>

"Goodbye, Snape." The brat was giving him an odd look, it made Severus feel as though he was made of very transparent glass and that if Potter wanted to, he could reach out and grab all of his secrets. It was almost as uncomfortable as being under the scrutiny of the Dark Lord. Almost, but not quite, with the Dark Lord those reaching fingers would had been made of metal spikes, with the boy they were soft, curling tendrils. That was what had always separated the two, no matter how similar they were. Harry Potter didn't have it in him to be knowingly cruel.

Shaking his head free of those thoughts and throwing on a scowl, Severus gave Potter a cold nod, refusing to give him the courtesy of an actual goodbye. Seeming to know what he was up to Potter chuckled, shrugged his shoulders and left Severus to brood by himself.

Well, it hadn't gone quite the way he wanted it to, but not a total loss either. Perhaps he should always approach difficult situations while under the influence.

"Bartender, another round."

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><p>"Snape? As in Severus Snape?" Hermione's mouth opened and closed like a fish's' for a moment before she collected her thoughts and gave Harry a calm look. "So this means Snape is a homosexual." It was a statement not a question.<p>

"What?" Of course. That idea hadn't ever made its way into his head while he was speaking with the man. Of course he was gay. That was why he was so adamant on Harry, standing up for gay rights. It set so many things into place.

"Oh please Harry. Don't tell me you didn't figure it out until now." He threw Hermione a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with the fact that Snape was agreeably seeking me out. I suppose that makes everything loads clearer." He rubbed a hand through his short hair and the ends of it itched his hand. It felt nice. That and it gave him something to do other than look at Hermione, who he was sure was shaking her head in disappointment. If there was one thing Harry could not stand it was Hermione's disappointment turned on him.

"Really, Harry sometimes I wonder how you get by in life. Not noticing large things the way you do. Anyway, what have you decided? Are you going to speak with the Minister?"

"I don't think so. At least, not while everything is just talk. If this spirals into a physical threat to the homosexuals, then I'll consider it." He shrugged glancing around the room they were in. Pansy's home was well decorated, the foyer, which was where they were, was dressed in pale yellows and dark blues. Even the chair in which he sat had blue and yellow upholstery. It was nice, only a bit too matching for Harry, who preferred each piece of furniture be individual from the next. Rooms had much more character that way.

"Consider it Harry," Her voice pulled him roughly back from his daydream, "These people are in danger, how can you just sit there and do nothing?"

"Why don't you do something then, Hermione? I already did more for the wizarding world then was expected of me. Why does everyone automatically chose me to save them?"

"I am doing something Harry." Her cheeks were flushed a molted red, "I am organizing everything I can, but I don't have your fame. I can only do so much. And yes, you have done much for the wizarding world and we all have much to thank you for. But the job isn't done when one opponent has been defeated Harry. There is so much more."

"But I don't _want _there to be more Hermione. I have _paid _my pound of flesh. I have suffered and watched suffering. I have bled and broken and _died_ for other people and for once, I am thinking about me. Me alone. And I want no part of it. What is so bad about that, why is that so wrong? I didn't ask for my celebrity I was born with it, I didn't ask for my power and I don't want to have to use it only because people are too stupid to think of doing big things themselves. No one even tries to do something anymore they simply assume that I will be only too happy and too willing to lay my comfort, my life down for others. I'm done Hermione. Done." His breath came in quick bursts and his neck was a beautiful crimson color. It had felt good to finally say what had been gnawing at him all these years.

Hermione was looking at him, her eyes a little watery, "I don't expect you to do the things people ask of you because _I_ want you to do them, Harry. I expect it because _you_ used to want to do them, to help people. To protect them no matter the cost. What happened to you?" She left him no chance to reply, only shook her head and left the room.

Harry put his head in his hands and took a deep, calming breath.

Since when had his heart been so heavy?

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><p>Reviews of all kinds are appreciated.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- Alrighty, here is the next chapter, hope you enjoy it, as it was rather fun to write. I'm bringing in more characters, and developing others. If you were unaware, chapter 2 has been updated to something far better than before. I hope I continue to please you all with my writing and that it continues with the same quality it had in the beginning.

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><p>Breakfast was a quiet business. Another row had Donald sitting at the far end of the table, mutely spreading a thin coating of jam over a piece of toast. Severus was determined to pay him no mind. Instead he burrowed his head into the daily profit and sipped his Vanilla Bourbon tea, shipped straight from Germany. He had always enjoyed the finer things in life, though he hadn't always had access to them.<p>

It had been almost a month since his sloppy confrontation with the Potter boy and each day he had scoured the papers for any evidence suggesting the Ministry was becoming less… ethical within their approaches. He had found none, which gave him cause to wonder if he had perhaps been a bit over zealous with his predictions. Naturally, when told this, Donald had gloated. And though there were many, many things which Severus Snape absolutely could not stand, gloating was by far the worst of them.

James Potter had gloated. Sirius Black had gloated.

Albus Dumbledore had gloated.

A huff of irritation came from Donald's end of the table… it was studiously ignored in favor of the news. Once more the paper revealed nothing of importance and it was gently folded and set it aside. His breakfast being complete Severus moved to excuse himself from the table. But Donald was there, standing rigidly next to the right of his chair and giving him a look that bore through him.

"I want to speak with you." When Severus did not move Donald gave a mewl of impatience. "Somewhere that the house elves cannot overhear."

"Donald, you are a smart man. One of the many reasons I was attracted to you in the first place. So do not insult me by claiming a lack of common sense that is reserved mostly for Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. The house elves will hear you no matter which room you wish to drag us off to, whatever you need to say may as well be said here."

"Fine," Shards of ice leaked their way into his voice, "It's about the potion."

"I am a potions master Donald, I work on many potions. You'll have to be more specific."

"The one we've been working on together, the Omnis Medela." Ah, that one.

"I thought we agreed that we would not continue until we were sure that the effects of the beetles bite and the dragonsbane would not be… unfortunate if mixed together with the base. Are you certain it will be safe?"

"No-"

"Then I see no reason to discuss it. We both agreed to contact one another if we found the solution to the problem. Other than that, it is simply for the best to let the potion lie; it is under a strong stasis spell, it will keep." Severus shook his out arm, which Donald had been grasping, and stand from the table. "I'll be in the lab, if you require anything from me." He strode to the doors that led to a hallway which would in turn lead to his private lab. As he reached them, however, something caught on the edges of his awareness.

Turning slowly around Severus gave his partner a _hard_ stare. Donald squirmed. He only squirmed when he had done something wrong. His eyes tapered.

"Donald." His voice soft like cut velvet. "Look at me. What did you really want to say to me? Certainly the specificities of the potion would be nothing for a house elf to overhear?" Donald flushed a brilliant red, reminding him starkly of the youngest male Weasley.

"I was angry with you." Severus's heart stopped and he turned with a sharp snap of his robes. He couldn't have, even in his worst rages Donald would not have been so stupid. The journey to his lab seemed to take an eternity, though it couldn't have lasted more than a moment or two. What he saw when he reached the bottom of the stairs made him wish it had taken longer. Strewn about the space were the majority of his instruments. Most, if not all, were damaged in some way. But it was the potion, the one he and Donald had been working on for years that Severus immediately ran to. When he had last left it, it had been simmering a light blue, almost transparent. Now, the man wasn't sure if there was a name for the coloring he saw. It was as though Donald had dumped a little bit of everything into the cauldron. In fact, Severus wouldn't be too surprised if he had.

"I was angry, Sev… lover." The younger man stood at the stairs, too frightened to come nearer. Or too smart. The potions master didn't blame him; he could only imagine what kind of face he was wearing. And he had never been a forgiving man. "You were yelling at me, and I hate it when you yell, and over such a stupid thing. I had said that this persecution you so wholly believed in would come to nothing after all. But you always argue. I just-"

The black haired man didn't recognize his voice when it clawed its way out of his throat.

"You dare. You dare to blame me for the destruction of my lab? Of our work? Years! I spent years trying to find a solution for this problem with you, because of you! And this? This is how you-" He took a deep breath, reigning in the wild magic that had spiraled around him. "Get out."

"Lover?"

"OUT! You think we are lovers still? You think that after this I will give you even an ounce of my respect? Of my time? OUT Merlin damn you!" Spit flew from his mouth and Severus felt a brief moment of disgust in his inability to control himself. But he deemed this an acceptable reaction, though Donald would undoubtedly tell him that he was over reacting. As per usual. Severus bolted all thoughts of Donald from his head. The man didn't deserve to reside in it. Finally understanding that Severus was not to be coddled or convinced, Donald turned heel and fled up the stairs.

Hissing with red rage Severus cast a vial to the ground, reveling in the small, physical expression of his anger.

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><p>Potter was in the news again. Draco snorted into his coffee, when wasn't he? The aristocrat sat in the study adjacent to his suite. The walls were a cream color that went well with the dark red of the wood floors. Unlike his father, Draco thought studies should be free of clutter and grandeur, they should be sparsely decorated, including only what was necessary. Because of this, he had ordered his army of house elves to put only a desk, some comfortable chairs and a few bookcases. And windows. More windows than what one knew to do with. After his stay in Azkaban Draco craved sunlight more than air. He was in this room more than any other, sometimes he even slept there. Something his mother would have disapproved of, if she still lived.<p>

Draco quickly focused his energy on something else, namely working up the energy to get dressed and head to work. It was a tedious game he played with himself, waiting until the last possible minute to get ready and only having enough time to cast a quick cleaning charm and run to the floo. But it was a game he played none the less.

"You need to get up." He told himself sternly, only to sink further into the ray of light he was lounging in. "You need to get up." His feet made a miserable twitching motion before they too settled. Draco blew out a sigh. When had he become this decadent? Putting the want of sitting in a sunbeam before his work.

'Azkaban' His mind whispered at him, and that did make him move. He sat up and rubbed his face briskly with his hands. Casting a quick Tempus charm to note the time, Draco nearly choked to see it was half past three. Only two minutes before his shift started. His overseer would have his skin as wallpapering if he was late. Foregoing the cleaning charm the young man dashed to the fire place and shouted out for the Department of Mysteries. He arrived at his destination flushed and very nearly late. Admitting that he may indeed have no other option than to be late, Draco made a mad run for the eighth floor down. If only one could apparate within Ministry walls.

Luck allowed him to catch the lift as the doors were closing and he shoved himself in tightly next to a horribly large woman and a squat man who kept muttering things to himself. Draco used the time in the lift to cast a discreet refreshing charm and was out the doors of his floor before they even properly opened.

Skidding to a stop in front of his desk he slid smoothly into the seat and attempted to look as though he hadn't just run the entire way. The Malfoy name might not mean much anymore but it still required some sense of decorum to sustain it.

"Late, Mr. Malfoy?" Hissing, Draco slid a few centimeters down his chair before remembering who and where he was and sitting up straight again.

"Really, you must acquire a better watch. That or learn how to cast a proper Tempus charm. Do you have the reports on lost witches and wizards that I asked for the other day?" Granger flicked a strand of her curly hair behind her ear and gazed at him expectantly. Surprise rocked through the pureblood. He was certain that the little know it all would be angrier with him then this. Well… she had mocked his choice in watches and that could be construed as an insult to his person.

'Or a joke' He thought darkly, though when and where she would have acquired a sense of humor was beyond him. "Yes," He cleared his throat quietly, "I'll bring them by your office as soon as I finish outlining the Boardman case." The Gryffindor Princess nodded at him and closed the door to her office.

The Boardman case was one that the Department of Mysteries had been working on for ages, and finally they had figured it out. Nicolas Boardman, mayor of a small city in the southern depths of England was a latent wizard. Something had triggered his magic and in an explosion, which could only come from years of repressed magical ability, erased the memories of everyone in his city, including his. Draco had poured over the case for almost two years, and though he was happy to finally be rid of it, he wasn't quite sure what to do with all the free time.

"Malfoy." The person in question raised his head and then fixed his face with his best sneer.

"Peterson? Is there something I can do to assist you?"

Peterson ignored him. "I wonder... how does it feel to be Grangers bitch? She's everything you despise in a person. Smart, capable, trustworthy, beautiful... Oh, and I almost forgot muggleborn." The man in front of him wore a cruel smile, something that would give him lines around his mouth later in life Draco was sure. His sandy blonde hair fell just to his ears, framing a wide set face, dark brown eyes and a nose that was far too small. Why women threw themselves at him was a mystery that even the _Department_ of Mysteries could not solve.

"Peterson," The voice was so cold Draco thought the air around him had actually dropped a few degrees. Granger was standing behind his harasser, arms crossed over her chest and a look on her face that rivaled Lucius Malfoy at his best. "What _exactly_ went through your mind when you decided to visit Mr. Malfoy, who works _eighteen _floors beneath you? I really want to know." Her eyes narrowed further if that was possible, reminding him firmly of McGonagall.

"I-"

"Oh wait, I know. You thought you could come here and torment my employee without my knowledge in some twisted way to win my favor. Even though you _must_ know that I have wards set up to warn me when someone wishes him ill intent. But of course, you weren't really harassing him were you? Someone like him deserves what he gets and you were simply doing me a service, is that right? People like you make me sick to my stomach Peterson. Get out, and if I find you down here again without a true need for our services I'll hex you with impotence." She glared him down until; finally, he turned on his heel, red as a beet, and left.

"That was wonderful Granger," Draco began to clap slowly, "Especially the bluff about you having wards set up around me, and now that that rumor is bound to spread I'm sure I'll receive far fewer visitors than before." He gave her a small smile of gratitude, as this was acceptable. She turned her brown eyes upon him and gave him a strange, slanted look.

"I do have wards set up around you. Do you think I would be so stupid as to leave you unprotected while the war is still so fresh in everyone's mind? There were bound to be some young, hot headed boys thinking they could exact their own brand of revenge. Especially boys like Peterson, ones who think they are Merlin's gift to women. Though I've always thought the almost inbred beauty of your family was a far more attractive thing. If only your personalities matched it." She gave him another sideways look before holding her hand out, "You have the reports?"

Draco stared at the hand as though it would tell him all of Grangers secrets. He didn't know whether to be smug about the fact that even Granger couldn't resist his looks or irritated that she had called him an inbred when he clearly was not. He settled decisively on irritated.

"I am not an inbred." He spat while pulling open the drawer which held all of the reports Granger was so antsy to have.

Granger snorted, "Not directly as in your mother and father were brother and sister, though their complexion and hair would lead any stranger to believe so. No in a more distant way, the way every pureblood family, the Weasleys included, are slightly inbred. It's a look I was often jealous of in my youth."

"Why are you speaking with me this way? Shouldn't you be agreeing with Peterson, as a matter of fact, why were you so lenient with me when I was late this morning when normally you would have bitten my head off with some nonsense about tardiness being sinful?"

"Is it making you uncomfortable?" His superior teased, "Well, if you must know. It's this whole situation with the homosexuals. It's lending me a new perspective." That couldn't be it, so Draco told her so.

"That isn't the whole story Granger."

"Well, Pansy also told me you weren't a bad person, just set in your backward pureblood ways, the way she once was," Of course, leave it to Pansy to ruin his reputation, "The rest of the story however, is my business and none of yours. You'll simply have to make up your own ending to it, I'm sure it'll be far more exciting than the truth. Now get back to work Mr. Malfoy." She smiled at him, a mocking smile, not a kind one and once again retreated to her office.

Glaring neatly at the door Draco made up his mind to do as little work as possible. Grumbling he set about reclining in his chair and daydreaming about windows and the sky. But before he could settle into his dozing, a thought forced him to straighten once more.

When had she taken the reports from him?

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><p>Severus was in a right state, the Omnis Medela potion which had taken years to brew to its stage was proving to be far more ornery than he remembered. Couple that with the fact that Donald had, no doubt purposely, taken all the notes on it with him, left Severus in a mood foul enough to keep even the bravest of men away from him. He cursed as yet another potion fizzled into a disgusting orange color, something that would not have happened, had he brewed it correctly. Fed up with his lack of progress the man thundered up the stairs for dinner.<p>

"Phillips!" With a crack an aged house elf appeared, he was dressed in fine pants and jacket. No elf of Severus's would look dirty and as it was the only things Severus had ever allowed Phillips to wear, it did not constitute as giving him clothes.

"Master Snape be calling Phillips? Master Snape be needing something?"

"Of course I need something silly creature, or I would not have called you." Phillips, by now used to the masters more vicious moods simply bowed and readied himself for the long set of orders he knew he was about to be given.

"Tell the kitchen elves that I want veal for dinner, lightly spiced, and bread rolls, fresh ones. Asparagus, steamed, and on a bed of rice. For dessert they are to make a pumpkin cobbler, and tell them to open two bottles of the 1787 Chateau Lafitte. And get someone to clean out my laboratory!" Phillips nodded and with another crack disappeared. Severus scowled into the empty space. Damned elf.

He settled himself at the dinner table, which seemed horribly large and empty with only he to occupy it, and immediately a house elf appeared with a glass of the 1787 and the whole bottle as well. Snatching it away from the creature the ex-professor downed the glass in one long gulp. The cup was refilled and again Severus drank it without tasting it. This continued until the food arrived and he was thoroughly intoxicated.

If the meal was good Severus didn't know, when he was in a mood like this he ordered lavish food to punish himself. Knowing full well that he would not be able, or willing to appreciate the cuisine. He must have sat at the table for hours, staring drunkenly into the distance and muttering warbled songs under his breath, before a knock echoed throughout the small manor.

"I'll get it!" He yelled at the house elves, though he was finding it far more difficult to remove himself from the chair than he had thought possible. With great effort he managed to make it to the door.

"Donald." Indeed the man was standing on his doorstep, a watery look in his eyes. Severus hated tears. He was shivering, due mostly to the fact that he had no coat.

'A deliberate thing,' Severus's thoughts told him.

But still, it was Donald, and the way he ran a hand over his chestnut hair still stirred something within him. Without a word Severus stepped aside and glowed inwardly when Donald smiled and moved past him into the house.

No, Severus was not a forgiving man.

But he was a lonely one.

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><p>Review and tell me your thoughts. And no, Draco is not gay. Omnis Medela, means all healing in Latin, or at least that is what Google translate tells me. And I am far to lazy to cross check it so that shall be that.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- This chapter further indrotduces all of the characters and the problems they're each going to face. There will not be another chapter like this because it would be to confusing, but it had to be done once. After this each chapter will only invovle two of the characters points of view, though when they start to over-lap it may include three. Hope you enjoy as this will be the chapter that introduces a lot of the villians and drama.

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><p>Harry approached his house after a long day of shopping and started when he noticed the wards he had put up were torn to shreds. He advanced slowly, wand drawn, ready to defend against any dark wizards. What he was not expecting, when he slowly pushed open the door, was Hermione sitting on his kitchen floor petting Tigger, his cat. He paused in the doorway before approaching hesitantly. Something was clearly wrong with his friend, her face was turned away from him but he knew she had been crying. Call it a sixth sense.<p>

"Hermione?" His voice reached tentatively out. She didn't turn, only continued petting Tigger, who was purring his content loudly and rolling about her feet. Harry took another few steps forward and laid a hand upon her shoulder, her head snapped to the side to look widely at him. Hermione's eyes were rimmed red and her hair, which she usually managed to tame, looked almost matted with mistreatment. He suspected she had pulled on it.

"It's George!" She wailed throwing herself into his chest. Harry grunted as she collided with him, unprepared for the assault. "I went to the Burrow, to tell Ron off. He's been bothering me at work and one thing led to another and they took him and they're going to kiss him, oh, I know they are Harry and it's all my fault!" The words came out in one long breath as she sobbed into his shirt, clutching folds of the fabric in her shaking hands. Harry blinked trying to understand what had happened from the few understandable snippets she had given him. It made no sense. Though he supposed that was more because he had only distinguished a few words then because what she herself had said made no sense.

"I'm sorry Hermione; I know you're upset and might not be able to clearly say what happened. But… what _exactly_ happened?" Hermione sniffed some snot up her nose and tried to compose herself. It was a difficult task and she struggled with it for sometime before she looked to Harry, eyes large.

"I went to the Burrow. Ron h-has been sending me owls and harassing me at work. I went to confront him. He started yelling at me about homosexuals and I c-couldn't contain my temper. I started screaming at him, about how he would feel if one of his own brothers or even Ginny was gay. Then Ron said that no one in his family would ever embarrass them that way. And that's when George," Her breath hitched and she let out another strangled sob, burying her face deeper into Harry's chest so that he had to strain to hear her next words, "George, came in and told Ron he was gay and what did he think about that. And then everyone started going absolutely mad. Molly was t-trying to convince George he was wrong an-and Percy he was pretending to read a book. Fred kept shoving off Arthur, because he looked like he would strangle George. But R-Ron, he was the worst he just stood there, his face was so red and he left without saying a word and," She took another deep breath fighting back tears.

"And he came back with a team of Aurors and they took him away, and Fred got hurt, he's in St. Mungo's. Oh Harry, they're going to give him the dementors kiss. And when Molly heard that she started into hysterics. Saying they couldn't k-kill her baby and everyone else was so quiet! They were so quiet Harry. And it's all my fault! I shouldn't have…" Harry felt cold, and deceived. The family that had been so warm, the one he had wanted as his own would condemn their own son for being gay? He shuddered, pulling Hermione closer. Then he shook his head, he doubted anyone of them but Ron would have gone to the Aurors, they would have learned to love him the way he was. But Ron was so stubborn and angry and alone, he must've acted without thinking. Harry had little doubt he would regret it in the morning; when he realized what he had sentenced his own brother to.

Hermione shot up with a suddenness that startled Harry and pulled him up with her. She had a gleam in her eye that meant what she was thinking was dangerous. And with the way the law was turning now… illegal.

"We can break him out. Just like Buckbeak and Sirius!" The young man shook his head.

"Hermione, this isn't school it isn't as though we can just fly up to a tower in Hogwarts and pull him out. This is Azkaban! The most guarded place in not only Wizard Britain but the world!" But he knew his protests meant little and were mostly obligatory. They had to get George, if they didn't it would weigh on their conscience until they died.

"What happened to the little boy who fought a troll in first year for a relative stranger, someone he didn't even like at the time? Or faced Voldemort every year in Hogwarts except third? Bring him out because it's him I'm talking to. Not you, not this sad, empty little man. Bring me Harry Potter as _I _knew him." Her eyes were fierce and bright and Harry had no choice but to concede. He smiled at her and knocked her shoulder with his own.

"Let's go break George out of Azkaban. And if his sorry arse isn't grateful we'll throw him back in."

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><p>Draco Malfoy hated the public. Hated having to be social. Even here, at a supposed "pure-blood sanctuary", his presence was met with open stares and dropped cutlery. For Merlin's sake they were pure-bloods, his lip curled in a sneer, they should know better than to openly display their surprise. Surprise was weakness. Were they so careless now that they weren't expected to grovel and kiss the dark lord's feet? They were disgraceful. And soon one of them would work up the courage to approach him and impart their beliefs of his person. It had happened many times before. How Pansy had managed to convince him to come out was still confusing to him.<p>

Not only that, but Merlin's Magic, the restaurant they were attending, had no windows. Not a _single_ one. And though Draco could handle this for short bursts of time, he could already feel the effects of intense claustrophobia setting in. Ripping his gaze from the walls that he was sure were closing in, Draco tried to give Pansy some attention as she must desperately need in for her to have invited him out.

"And of course Weasley was being a prat; the man knows nothing else in the world. What a wonderful woman like Hermione was ever doing with him is baffling. Perhaps you should date her Draco; her height would certainly complement yours." Draco snorted.

"Just because we are on somewhat amicable terms, does not mean I'd ever be willing to take a mudblood as my wife. I have a family to preserve. A reputation. No matter how… friendly she may be, in the end she still has dirty blood." Pansy gave him a knowing stare. "And don't look at me that way Pans. I'm perfectly within my rights to deny her."

Pansy clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth, a tendency Draco had always despised her for. She adjusted her navy-blue and white striped scarf and fixed him with her best Slytherin sneer. "Draco. Poor, backwards Draco. If you want to continue to exist in this new world, your views will have to change. Muggleborns control the wizarding world for now, and more likely than not, they will for many years after you and I are long dead. I thought you smart enough to see an opportunity when you see one. Hermione Granger is one of the most famous muggleborn witches ever in existence. It would do you no harm to ally yourself with her."

"Is that the reason behind your friendship with her then? Political gains? How cruel of you Pansy."

She shook her head, elegant strands of hair falling from her bun, "Of course not Draco, though I can see the benefits of being close to her. Hermione helped me through a horrible period in my life. And you know how we women get, no past offenses matter if you are there for one another even once. Besides, I find her intelligence… refreshing. Especially after a day spent in the company of present day 'pure-bloods'. It is as though our parents' generation were the last true pure-bloods." Draco eyed her suspicion before returning to his meal of simmered duck in a light carrot sauce. The walls were looming in on him now and he cleared his throat, desperate for more conversation to make the fear abate.

"Malfoy." The voice was impossible not to recognize. Though how he had been admitted entrance when he was a half-blood was indeed a mystery. Perhaps he was stalking Draco.

"Peterson, however did you find me? You haven't developed an obsessive crush, now have you?" Peterson snarled, his lip pulling back over his gums in a way that reminded Draco of a skittish horse.

"I'm the guest of a patron."

"What pure-blood in his right mind would want you as a companion?"

"Is that a shot at my blood, _Malfoy_?" Peterson's nostrils flared with the idea.

"No, that is a shot at your horrible manners, personality and intelligence, any pure-blood worth anything would be ashamed to be in your presence." Draco absently flicked an asparagus stalk across his plate, smiling inwardly as Peterson fumed at the insult.

"One day, I'll give you what is coming to you, Deatheater. Six years in Azkaban wasn't enough punishment for someone like you."

"Why not today then?" Draco stood fluidly, pulling his wand from the cane he carried. His father's cane. "You seem to be convinced you can do me harm. Why not challenge me to a formal wizards duel. Or better yet, I challenge you, invoking my Merlin's Claims. You have insulted me deeply sir," He gave a sarcastic bow, "And it is my right as a fully mature wizard to demand repercussions." Peterson gave him a startled glance and took a small step backwards before realizing what he was doing.

"I decline." His voice was stiff.

"Ah, my enemy is a coward, how unfortunate. For as you know, a man's enemies say much about the man himself. Come find my when you grow the balls to duel me, Peterson." He turned to face Pansy and give her a delicate kiss on the cheek. "Pansy, darling, I must be off. I have had enough of this windowless space. Next time we shall dine at Malfoy Manor. My house elves are more than a match for the cooks here." He turned on his heel and brushed past Peterson, a faint smile on his face.

He was halfway to the door when Pansy's shriek of warning had him diving to the side. A fizzling bright blue curse shot past his ear, blowing his blonde hair to the side. From the intensity of the blue, Draco knew that it had been deadly... or at least harmful enough to send him to St. Mungo's for a few months. He whirled around, his deep grey robes snapping about him. Pansy shook her head in caution when he caught her eye. He ignored her and instead watched Peterson, who was standing, feet apart, with his wand pointing at Draco's chest. A low growl pulled from his chest.

"I see… a coward and a sneak. Are you sure you were _actually _placed in Gryffindor?"

Peterson leapt at him and Draco smiled.

* * *

><p>"Are you ever going to put that paper away? I swear… you sleep with it more than you do me now a day." Donald pouted, sticking his bottom lip out in a way Severus found severely juvenile. They were sitting in bed together. Or rather, Severus was sitting and Donald was tucked under the covers, head propped up on his hand. It had been routine, ever since he had returned that Donald would spend the evenings with Severus in his rooms and then retire to his own, before they went to sleep. Severus had not forgiven him enough to allow him in his bed when he slept.<p>

He pushed his reading glasses a bit further up his proud nose, cursing them for their fussiness. His sight worsened the darker it became requiring their use.

"It's important to know what is happening in our world. Especially, as it pertains to our situation."

"What situation?" Donald ran a finger over Severus's chest. He gave him a cold look and the younger man retracted his finger with a guilty look.

"The one where we're sleeping with one another."

"Well," Donald gave another pout, "Not as of late."

"Regardless, we did. And that puts us in the category of important things in our world that pertain to our situation."

"Don't joke Sev. You were never any good at it."

Severus raised a thick eyebrow and turned his head, away, placing the paper on the side table.

"Alright Donald, out." A breathy sigh accompanied the rustle of cloth as Donald slid out of the king sized bed. The dark haired potions master kept his eyes from his partner as he stood beside the bed; hand stretched out, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't quite get it past his lips. From the corner of his eyes, Severus saw Donald shake his head and move away, closing the door behind him as he went.

Severus let out an exhale of air and rubbed his eyes. Allowing his partner as close as he was had been painful. He was not a sympathetic man, never that, and even now the temptation to punish him for what he had done was an almost overwhelming physical presence. But he pressed down that thought, smothered it with the proverbial pillow. It would do no good to think of revenge, only it would poison him further. And he had had enough poison from his service to the dark lord to last the rest of his days.

He rolled over onto his right side, the position he preferred to sleep in, and closed his eyes to a troubled slumber.

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><p>The clicking of beak against glass awoke Severus with a start. He cast an arm over his face to block the sun and squinted into the light. It was the large barn owl that normally delivered his post. Grumbling about his abrupt wake-up call, Severus made his way over to the window, throwing it open when he reached it. The bird flew in almost immediately dropping the paper onto Severus's desk and sticking its beak out expectedly.<p>

"Go on with you fowl, you'll have no treats from me." The creature gave him what he thought was a withering look, before departing the way it came. One wing smacking Severus in the face as it blew past him. Sending it a glare the man picked up the paper and unfolded it.

Everything was quiet in the room, besides the sound of crinkling paper slithering to the floor. With a shaking hand Severus retrieved the news and read the headline again. He swallowed, the action thick and uncomfortable.

It seemed to him that the situation Britain was in was just like a glass house, transparent.

And now, in the form of a Weasley, the first stone had been thrown.

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><p>Review please. Sorry it is a bit shorter than the rest, though only by a few hundred words.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N- Thank you for the concern and reviews. I appreciate both. This chapter is a bit of plot progression and character development, though not really in the same scene. I hope you enjoy it, it's a bit short but I'm going to chalk that up to the fact that I had to write six essays that, naturally, I put off until the last minute.

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><p>The wind pulled at Harry's invisibility cloak. Smothering his face. They were lucky, he supposed, that the storm had held off as long as it had. He could hear Hermione's hitched breathing behind him and he allowed himself a smirk. It had been Hermione's plan to fly, and she hated flying. She pulled up to his side, her body wrapped in a disillusionment charm. He could barely make out the tendrils of her hair whipping around her face. The broom had been doused with invisible paint.<p>

"Harry!" She had to yell over the howling of the wind, and even so her words were ripped away and tossed into the air behind them as quick as she said them, "Azkaban is only just ahead! About five minutes or so and we'll see the first turrets!" He saw a transparent hand reach up to viciously push locks of hair from her face, "I'll cast the locator spell now!" Harry nodded and watched as her thin wand made its way out of her pocket. Even knowing she was holding it, it was still a little nerve racking to see the wand move about on its own.

"_Locus Nobis_."

Though Harry couldn't see the effects Hermione had explained them well enough so that he knew exactly what was happening. According to Hermione, if the spell was done properly a bright yellow beam of light would link the caster to the intended target. Though only the caster would be able to see the beam.

"It's working!" Hermione hissed, her voiced filled with catlike satisfaction. He had no choice but to believe her, so Harry let her take the lead, pulling back on his broom to slow down. She zoomed past him, Azkaban was in sight. He followed the faint shimmer of her form, thankful for all those years chasing the equally hard to see snitch. The pair rounded the first two towers, Hermione leading them in a large arch around the prison, and flew directly towards the third tower in the center.

They slowed their approach and hovered next to two windows. Inside one cell was a skeletal man, his head seemed too large for his body and indeed he struggled with lifting it when Hermione gave a gasp, revealing their position. But man was too sick to call for guards and let the moment pass. After all, there was nothing to see. Harry and Hermione circled around the windows, peering into each one and becoming more discouraged as George wasn't in sight.

"Isn't your spell supposed to show him to us?" Harry whispered.

"Yes, but he must be sitting close to the door, near the middle of the tower. The light shows me that it's this tower but it can't pick him out from the others." Harry snorted, that was a bloody useless spell then. They continued to circle the tower lower and lower until Harry was sure that, despite her brilliance, Hermione had mucked things up.

"There!" Came her sharp intake of air. She was pointing to a small window, the wards on it thick as an old woman's make-up. Sitting near the door in a fetal position was George. He didn't look to bad, Harry decided, a bit disheveled and dirty. Maybe a bit grave, but not hurt. Harry let out an anxious breath he hadn't been aware of holding.

His pleasure turned quickly to concern when George didn't react to their calls.

"Do you think he's already been kissed? It only took us a day and a half to come up with the plan; he couldn't have been kissed yet. Could he?" His voice was a harsh bark, startling Hermione from her stupor. Seeing George had affected her more than he had thought it would. He reined in the last of his comment, which went somewhere along the lines of "I-Told-You-So", and peered at the wards instead. They were layered and interwoven. The patterns chasing each other across the walls. Harry hummed in appreciation and the smiled when he found the small ward of silence. It was almost carelessly thrown in, a last minute idea from some, silly guard. The raven haired man banished it with just as much carelessness as its cultivation. When dealing with wards, often times the best way to be rid of them is to cast them out in the same manner that they were born.

"George."

He snapped his head up, brown eyes glaring into the distance. The twins had always been the better looking among the Weasley brood. Harry had always thought that Charlie and them could be right lady-killers it they ever took their minds off their work.

"_Or gentlemen-killers._" Spoke the soft murmur of his mind.

"It's us George," Hermione's high pitched trill caught George and Harry's attention, "That is to say, Harry and I. We've come to rescue you!" Harry could hear the mischief in her voice. She had always enjoyed being a part of the adventure, much more then she'd ever admit.

George was still glaring, pushing his back to the wall, "Is this another trick?"His voice rang throughout the empty space, "Come to poke some more fun at me have you? Well I won't be convinced!" He huddled himself more closely to the wall and made the snuffling sound one would expect from a hurt animal. Harry whipped the cloak from his face.

"Oi, it's really us you ungrateful prick." George's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he made a mad scramble to the window.

"Harry, Hermione," He breathed face full of relief and hope, "What do you think you're doing, trying to break me out of Azkaban the way you are?" A wicked smile played across his impish features, "Bloody stupid if you ask me."

"Well, no one was asking you. Now stand back and act the sad, hopeless little prisoner you were. It'll take Hermione and me a bit to dismantle the wards. Wonder of wonders… they're extensive." Harry coughed out a laugh and swung his broom back a little. They would need plenty of space. "Alright Hermione, just like we planned, I'll take all the vicious ones and you deal with the ones that would set off alarms." He could faintly see her nod.

With a small flick of his wand the wards were presented to his mind in a bright array of colors. Black and dark red were the malicious ones and the soft curling bits of grey and blue were the alarms. He started with the first. Whoever had cast it had done so meticulously, but also as though it was something they had done daily and somewhat resented. Like a chore brushed off until the last minute, but still done well, lest your mother catch you. Putting himself in an equal mindset Harry wiped out the first ward. On and on he went, slashing the magic to ribbons until he came to the very last one. It was a deep black, twisted and clawing into the very stones of Azkaban. It blinked at him with beady eyes and unfurled, reaching for him with razor sharp talons. Harry pulled his mind back, circling the thing. He was sure he didn't want those nails to touch him. It was the trickiest ward, and the oldest it seemed. It was almost alive, the way it moved, and filled with an inhuman hatred. The thing reached for him again and Harry felt flashed of contempt run through him. The witch or wizard who cast this spell had hated the cell's inhabitant then.

He tried to summon visions of Lupin and Sirius. How their deaths had filled him with that hatred, with that tangible rage. It wouldn't be enough; he knew that before he even shed out his mind to undo to enchantment. The spell screeched, not a warning bell for the prison guards but a battle cry. Wounded it flung itself at Harry and latched on. Even though his mind's defenses were great, the force of those claws, pulling across the inside of his skull was painful. He'd have a hell of a headache the next day, not to mention a very spiteful ward, shivering in the back of his head. At least until he could properly banish it. His eyes flicked open to see George's worried face.

"Harry, are you alright? That last ward at the end, it didn't seem very friendly."

"It's Azkaban Hermione; I doubt their magics were designed to be 'friendly'. Did you finish with the alarms?"

"Yes."

"Good, well. That didn't seem too difficult." He extended a hand to George, before remembering that while he was under the cloak he would see it, and shaking it from its confinement. The twin grinned, and grasped the offered hand, pulling himself onto the broom that he knew was there, yet couldn't see.

Almost as soon as George's body was out of the window and desperate cold sank into Harry's bones and all the happiness from rescuing George fled.

"Dementors!" Hermione hissed. They wasted no time. Harry rapt his wand hard on George's head, spreading the disillusionment charm, and took off into the growing storm, Hermione hot on his heels. The dementors wouldn't be fooled by such tricks for long, not with the way they sought out life the way a bloodhound seeks prey. The ward at the back of Harry's mind scrapped against the insides of his head the closer the dementors got. It howled and slammed into Harry's mind. Cursing Harry turned behind him.

A wall of wispy fabric and empty faces met his eyes and he quickly turned forward.

"Hermione. Apparate to my house, now. George and I will be along in a minute alright? But you need to go!"

"No, Harry-"

"Shut up and go!" He didn't see her vanish but he heard the pop-pop of apparation and thanked Merlin she had the sense to listen. "Alright George, think happy thoughts." Harry tore the broom around to face their enemy.

Images of his mother filled him, and Ginny and Hermione. He thought of how he felt when he defeated Voldemort.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" At the very end of the spell, when he needed his happiness the most, the magic lurking in his mind reared and stabbed his mind. Harry choked spots of black raging at the edges of his eyes. He lifted his wand again, determined to finish the spell, to fight through the pain. But he could feel his energy leaving him. Could feel his arm drooping despite his protests. The broom pitched forward and Harry could do nothing but chuckle to himself.

Of course breaking someone out of Azkaban could not be so easy.

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><p>Draco Malfoy arrived at work a full fifteen minutes early. He bore no evidence of his being in a fight just the night before. Though Peterson was restricted to St. Mungo's. The thought had a small smile pulling at his lips. The lift doors opened and Draco stepped out, fully intent on bragging to the bookworm that, yes, he indeed was on time.<p>

She wasn't there. And that was not all that was different.

Gaping Draco looked at his desk area. The desk itself was the same as ever, impeccably neat. His papers still to be reviewed stacked on one side and those he had finished on the other. His chair, stood as he had left it the day before. And the ink stain he had never remembered to clean was still prominently displayed on the carpet. But none of that was what held his attention.

"You've noticed it then." Granger was stepping out of the lift. And she looked… rumpled. Her shirt was buttoned the wrong way. Pants wrinkled, hair a frizzy mess tied haphazardly in a bun. And her eyes. He shuddered at the deep circles underneath them.

"I've noticed," She continued as though she appeared perfectly normal, "That you frequently go for breaks when you are here. Not that I mind as long as they aren't too long and your work continues in its excellent quality. But I've also observed that these breaks are short, not long enough even for the loo and defiantly not long enough for lunch. So I wondered to myself. What could he be doing? Getting fresh air? And of course that is when it occurred to me. You spent time in Azkaban. And not the holding cells where the windows are small but at least there are windows. But the actual prison. I figured the most important thing to someone who had spent so much time in the belly of the best would value fresh air more than almost anything." She blinked at him, bloodshot eyes taking a moment to refocus.

"So now it's here." Her head tilted towards it. There was no smile on her face, as Draco would have thought. She seemed aged, overnight. Before he could so much as contemplate thanks she was gone, hidden in her office. So he only shrugged and turned to examine his gift once again. It horrified him. How well she knew him. No one had ever dissected him quite so thoroughly and neatly.

She had discovered his biggest weakness and instead of exploiting it she was, helping. If you could call it that. Draco's mind couldn't comprehend why she had done it. You needed to have some sort of compassion for a person to give such a gift. A little bit of liking and a lot of respect. You had to know someone, to do this. But how could she know him. When they had only been associated for a short time. And after everything he had done to her during his term as a school boy. Would you not think that she would revel in his suffering? That she would wish to prolong it?

But she hadn't.

He sat heavily in his chair and tried to figure out the puzzle that was Hermione Granger. It did him no good. Only frustrated him further. If she could put the past so firmly behind her then so could he. Anything a mudblood did he could do too. Snorting he resigned himself to bringing her coffee later. She looked as though she needed it.

Smiling, Draco closed his eyes and let the slight breeze wash over him, and for the first time since he had started working in the Department of Mysteries… he enjoyed sitting in a beam of sun.

Complements of his new window.

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><p>Reviewing is good for my ego.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N- I realize that Donald is a less then lovable character. But it is meant to be that way. And maybe if you make a good case, I will consider killing him off. Though obviously, even if that happened it wouldn't be too soon. In case anyone was wondering, this story is going to be around 30 to 40 chapters long, possibly longer or shorter depending on how well I write my chapters and how much content they include. Well I hope you enjoy this chapter, I like it.

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><p>Severus sat in his favorite chair, red and white upholstered with worn gold thread. His legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He was framed by a large window and to his side was a small table upon which sat the morning's paper and a little plate of sausages. He had his reading glasses on and smoked a small pipe as he reviewed his latest potions order. It was a large one, and a very suspicious one. Why would someone want the claw of an iguana and daisy power at the same time? The few potions that could be made with those together were dangerous and very much in the realm of the dark arts. He shrugged; they would receive defunct potions supplies then, ones that would, naturally, work if used separately from each other, but would ruin a potion if used together. He would not have the Ministry running down on him because some rural simpleton fancied himself a potions experiment.<p>

The door to the lounge clicked opened and Donald shoved his head inside, auburn hair falling into his face. Spotting Severus he made a noise half in between a snort and a chuckle and shuffled inside.

"You look like a real British dandy Severus. Who were you channeling when you woke up today? Byron?" Severus's eyes flicked up from his order and he gave a sneer that he knew would rival any Malfoy's. Donald had been becoming enormously braver as of late. Probably thinking he had been completely forgiven, not realizing that such a thing was impossible. Severus was entirely incapable of forgiving.

"Have you come only to insult my taste in clothing Donald? If so, please remove yourself from my lounge. I have work to do." He returned to his commission, the paper it was written on crinkling under his tightened grip. Donald made that half noise again and slid, uninvited, into a chair.

"Really Sev, can't you take a joke?" Donald's American accent bit off the words. Like each one was tiresome to say. He reached over and snatched a sausage, his quick fingers retreating before Severus had the opportunity to slap them away. The old potions master glowered in discontent.

"If only you were joking, Donald, I would not be so impressed. But you don't joke, not with me. What is it you want? Or did you come just to steal my sausages?" He finally set the order aside and turned to face his companion. Donald looked at him, his eyes scanning Severus's face for something. Severus wasn't sure what, but hoped whatever it was didn't show on his face none the less.

"I'm going to town today. There is an apothecary I want to visit. And seeing as we are entirely out of dragon bile, I felt it was as wonderful a time as any to go." This did catch Severus's attention and his gaze hardened. He had restocked on the item in question just four days ago. There was no possible way Donald had found some way to waste it all. He was still a potions master after all.

"Which apothecary? Certainly I would know of it if it here in Britain as I make it a general rule to know who my competitors are."

"You wouldn't have heard of it, it's fairly new and the owner is American. She's from Maine. Just like me. We're old friends."

Severus glared, "New or not, which apothecary?"

"The Ten Toads."

Severus wished he was still holding the paper, to give himself something to tear at. Instead he settled for running his nails over the tendons in his wrist. "The Ten Toads? That store is not new Donald, it is my biggest competitor and you very well knew that." His voice leaked from between his teeth. Cold, harsh and poisonous.

"This is why you shouldn't have asked!" Donald threw his hands up in exasperation, "I know you and she don't get along, but she's still my friend and I reserve the right to visit her when I want to." He slumped down in his chair and gave his partner a sully look.

"And you think I wouldn't have found out? Merlin Donald, she is the second largest potions seller in all of Europe! How do you think it will look to have my companion shopping in her stores? Friend or no friend, I don't want you to go." The plate of sausages rattled as Severus slammed his palm against the dainty table.

Nora Benedict. The only other potions master still living in Britain and making an earning besides Donald and him. She and Severus had butted heads during almost every single potions conference. She was far more… radical then Severus could claim to be. Benedict advocated the practice of human testing; she wanted a sample of Azkaban prisoners to experiment with. Something he had fought to the death against. He still had friends in Azkaban and with the way her eyes had gleamed at him from across the room, Severus had known exactly whom she had in mind. And now Donald wanted her ingredients; or at least was pretending to want them. Even though he knew perfectly well that Severus had extra stores in the basement and that he reordered any item once three fourths of it was used.

"Stop trying to control me Sev." Came Donald's huffed reply.

"I am trying to save you, you unbearable prat. Benedict is not a woman to be trifled with. You cannot play the silly games you play with me, with her. She will rip you apart and then proclaim our embarrassment to the entirety of wizarding Britain! Surely you must know what such a thing would do to our reputations as potions masters? We will never be invited to another conference."

"Please stop it, always so dramatic with you Brits. Not everything is about reputation. Besides, as I have said, multiple times. She and I are friends. No harm will come to me or your so very precious reputation."

"Perhaps status means little to nothing in your backwards American culture, you have no purebloods there, only small pockets of motley half-bloods and muggleborns. You cannot even comprehend how deeply our sense of tradition runs since you Americans are like children to our grandfathers when it comes to customs." Severus bit out, hating how smugly Donald stared at him now.

"This coming from a half-blood himself? Hypocrite. I'm going to visit Nora now. I'll be back around six." He swept up from his chair, snagging one final sausage as he left and trotted out the door. Clearly thinking he'd won. Severus restrained himself from going after him and forcibly keeping him in the manor. If word got out that his partner and potions associate was rendezvousing with his main opposition then the papers would have his skin.

Yes he could see the headlines now. And then of course that mangy successor that Skeeter had left her position to would be sniffling around poking for a story. What was her name? Ah yes, Lavender Brown. Disgusting girl, even when he had the unfortunate opportunity to teach her. Always sticking that nose into places it didn't belong, slinking around in shady corners to get the latest gossip. No wonder she had taken to Skeeter like a dragon to flame.

All at once, Severus's energy left him. Why he let Donald antagonize him so was mind-bending. Not even for the Dark Lord had he shown as much servitude. But that man had a power over him that his former Lord never achieved. It was the same kind of control Lily had had over him, though she was never aware of it the way Donald seemed to be.

Morning ruined with thoughts of scandal Severus resigned himself to brewing some calming draught. His stores were low and with the mood he was in, there would be no way that he could enjoy his day off. He might as well work.

And perhaps he would sneak some of the draught for himself.

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><p>"Granger."<p>

Draco Malfoy poked his head into his overseer's office; a pot of coffee in hand, instead of only one cup. It had been a week since Granger had had his window installed and as thanks he had been bringing her coffee on a daily basis. The further along the week the more she seemed to need it. She had never come into work quite as frumpy as that first day. Her clothes were clean and ironed and her insane mass of hair pinned firmly back. The only indications of her obvious anxiety were the dark circles underneath her eyes. They had grown deeper and deeper as the time progressed, staining her skin a blue-black. It reminded Draco of that ink blot he had yet to clean off his carpet.

She looked up when his voice penetrated her thoughts. Her face looked more tired than ever, eyes lacking their normal sheen of intelligence.

"Coffee," The blonde held the pot aloft, sneering a bit, as he still couldn't quite bring himself to smile at her. Granger glanced at it, and then waved her hand to a clear space on her desk. As he placed the pot down, casting a quick warming charm as he went, he had to wonder whether or not she actually drank what he brought her. He never put any cream and sugar in it. Maybe she didn't like it black. "Did you want something with it? Cream and sugar? Just cream?" She blinked at him, "Just sugar?"

It took her ages to answer him and when she did, it sounded as though her tongue was thick and heavy from disuse.

"Just cream." Hermione's voice rasped from her mouth, sounding foreign even to her. Draco only nodded and went to fetch it. He had barely stuck his foot out the door when Granger's question stopped him.

"Why?"

"Why what? You must be more specific, I know it must be hard for you to understand, being a muggleborn and all, but I can't _actually_ read your mind." He put his hands on his hips and watched as she struggled for the words she needed.

"This," She gestured weakly to the pot of coffee, and then to Draco himself. His body still hanging half in and half out the door. "You. Why are you bringing me coffee every day? And being so nice to me? And it's not being civil; don't try to pass it off as civil. We've been _civil_ with each other since this arrangement started. But you are being… nice. Why?" The effort of that little bit of talk seemed to have drained her and she took a long swig directly from the coffee pot, hands clutching the ceramic. Draco wrinkled his nose a bit in disgust. But it was to be expected. Mudbloods didn't have manners to speak of, seeing as they were raised by what practically amounted to hairless apes.

"I am not being nice." He held up a hand to silence her when she opened her mouth to contradict him, "You gave me a window. Further more you didn't expose my weakness to the press as I assumed anyone would do if they found out. And you-" He choked a little, the words hating to come out, but he managed to force them past his lips, "_Protect_ me. With all those wards you have up around my desk. And I won't be in debt to you, if I have to bring coffee to you every day for the rest of my life I will, but I won't be in debt to you."

The Gryffindor Princess stared at him for a long moment. Her mouth opened and closed. Her eyes fluttered a few times, blinking out the dryness that came with holding them too wide. And then a determined look crossed her face. She took in a deep breath, opened her mouth to say something that Draco was sure would be profound and filled with Gryffindor sentimentality… And then she started to cry.

Draco wanted to run.

He gritted his teeth and stayed instead.

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><p>Hermione sucked in air through her nose and ended up gagging on her snot as it shot down her throat. It was stupid of her, but she had done it anyway and at this point she could be as embarrassing as she wanted.<p>

She was already crying in front of Malfoy after all.

She hadn't heard from Harry since their attempt to break George out of Azkaban. And she had gone, every day, to his house; hoping he would somehow appear, George in tow. It hadn't happened. And after a week of waiting and hoping and feeding Harry's cat, Hermione was starting to lose hope. And it was a horrible feeling that sank to the bottom of her stomach and stubbornly sat there.

She hadn't slept properly since and her nails were bitten down to the quick. Her lips, which she hid underneath a glamour, were torn to shreds with all of her biting. She hadn't showered and her whole body shook from hunger and yet it rejected any food she tried to give it. Ron was still harassing her. Always standing just outside the edges of the wards around her house, begging to be let in. And the Department of Mysteries had just been given eight new cases. Cases that the Aurors hadn't managed to crack despite years of trying. Everything piled itself on top of her, leaving her feeling painfully like Atlas holding up the world.

And now goddamn Malfoy had to be _sweet _to her.

It had been the last straw on the camel's back.

He hadn't tried to touch her while she cried. Something she was enormously thankful of. In fact he hadn't even moved. Still one foot in her office and the other out. Through her tears she tried to see what he was doing.

Malfoy's eyes darted between Hermione and the door so fast she was sure he would burst a blood vessel. His pale hands fluttered nervously over his robes and a dismayed frown marred his usually handsome features. He was torn between staying and leaving it seemed.

Hermione knew the moment he had chose to stay with her before his body made the move to sit in the chair in front of her desk. His face had set. Jaw clicking shut, nose flaring slightly and his eyes hardening. He looked as though he was marching to his death and the sight of it would have sent her into hysterics were she not already crying so much. Malfoy sank into the chair. He didn't try to hold her the way Ron would have. Or talk to her the way Harry usually did. He didn't even grasp her hand how Ginny might when Hermione had cried about Ron. No, he just sat there, in that chair in front of her desk and looked at all the pictures on the wall. Every now and then he would shuffle or cross his legs. Once or twice a small sigh escaped him, though they were so quiet Hermione was sure he didn't mean for her to hear them.

He stayed with her until her sobs turned to hiccups and hiccups into sniffles. Then he stood, summoned cream from somewhere, cast another warming charm on her coffee pot and fixed her a cup.

Malfoy didn't comfort her the way her friends would have. He didn't even pat her back or lightly touch her arm they way strangers often did. He had remained the same as he always was.

And in some ways, it was the best comfort she had ever gotten.

Because he may not have touched her or told her it was okay, or held her, or even given her a light reassuring stroke, but he had stayed.

And that meant something.

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><p>Reviewing is good for getting me to update faster.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N- This chapter I think is a bit shorter then the rest. you can blame that on the fact that I have been studying for my finals all weekend. They're scheduled for Wednesday, wish me luck! Anyway please enjoy.

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><p>Hermione apparated a few yards away from Harry's home, as she had for the last two weeks. She had felt a little better ever since her impromptu sob session with Malfoy but she still came every day, fed the cat and sat for an hour on Harry's couch just in case they appeared while she was there. It hadn't happened. Hitching her breath to prevent a snivel from escaping Hermione took the steps two at a time. When she opened the door a blast of dark magic washed over her. She took three frightened steps back and whipped out her wand. The entire flat absolutely stank of dark magic. It seeped from the walls and piled around her feet. She shuddered as a bit of it brushed against her thigh and made her way into the kitchen.<p>

Tigger crouched under the small table, spitting and growling at the living area. He was puffed up to twice his size, his tail twitching horribly back and forth. Hermione absently reached down to calm him before inching into the living area.

At first glance there was nothing to be seen, the room so thick with rot and dark magic that only the barest of details filtered through the black.

"_Lumos_." Hermione muttered and her wand lit up, banishing the ick to the furthest corners. A warbled gasp dragged itself from her lungs and she rushed to the couch where a soaking wet Harry was clutching and equally drenched George. They were both pale and bruised, George was unconscious or… dead. Harry swung his head around when he heard someone approach his eyes large and eerily lamp like.

As she came closer Hermione saw that George's chest was rising and falling and she released a painful gulp of air.

"Harry…" She breathed, "What happened. You were gone for nearly three weeks." She knelt next to him and pushed the sopping hair from his forehead. It was growing out again. Harry shuddered at her touch and took a few calming breaths.

"Medical attention." He rasped his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I can't take you to St. Mungo's they'll recognize George I- Harry what did you do?"

"Then take us to someone you trust." His voice grew weaker and he struggled to prop himself upright on the arm of the couch, one arm still clutching desperately to George.

"Harry, you need to tell me what happened-"

"Fuck Hermione! Just take us somewhere!" Hermione recoiled upon herself staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"But Harry, the dark magic…"

"Will you just do what I asked you? George doesn't have much time left and I'm already sharing my life force with him, so will you God damn do some good and get us somewhere!" His breath hissed from between clenched teeth and he collapsed atop George, energy spent.

"Okay, okay but, Harry I don't know. I don't know where." She cursed herself for her inability to think clearly, and _do something_. And then, as though a light bulb had been screwed in she knew.

Apparation was tricky, especially if you didn't know where you were going. It took either an extremely powerful wizard or an extremely meticulous one to apparate to someone directly. Holding on to both men as tightly as she could Hermione closed her eyes and prayed she had studied the art hard enough.

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><p>Severus Snape was prepared for anything, he reasoned. Paranoid enough to even be ready for the rebirth of the Dark Lord, should such a thing ever happen, Merlin help them. What he was not prepared for was the arrival of three Gryffindors landing in the middle of his bed at eight in the morning. The Granger girl looked up at him, hair tangled and coiling around her head, and gave a shriek of delight. Practically launching herself at him.<p>

"Snape! Thank Merlin, you have to help us, George is dying and Harry is sharing his life force with him and I'm sure that one of them cast some very dark magic and now they're both hurt and if we don't help them soon they're going to die and they can't die you see, because this was all my fault in the first place." She was clutching the front of his bed robes by the end, crushing the delicate silk in her grip. He peeled her off him, showing her as much contempt as was humanly possible. After pushing her off the bed he turned his attention to the two idiots. The Potter brat was conscious, though barely, and was staring at him with a strangely blank expression on his face. He moved to sweep his wand over him, intending only to cast a diagnostic charm, but Potter flinched and moved back.

"George first."

"It's only a diagnostic charm Potter, calm down." The boy shook his head, spraying water all over Severus's duvet. He glowered at it distastefully and returned his attention to the brat who was now backing away, yet his fingers still curled around those of Weasley's.

"This is not a situation where it would aid you to protest Potter, or do you wish to die so badly you would jump at any chance to do so?" The sneer cut through his words.

"George first, or I'll make a fuss. He's worse off than I am. It'll be much quicker if you would simply attend to him rather than bearing out my tantrum if you try to heal me first." Harry glared, and nudged George's body forward as a final argument.

"Such a _child_." The potions master hissed while waving his wand over one of the Weasley twin's body. He was sure they had said his name a few times, but he couldn't bring himself to listen, too distracted by the sheer unadulterated stubbornness of the little Potter twit. The spell revealed that the twin had indeed been hanging onto life by only a thread. Harry's life force was the only thing keeping him breathing; he had been right on insisting the redhead be healed first. Not that he still hadn't been annoying about it.

"Granger," He whirled on his heel, even his bed robes fanning out behind him in a bat-like manner, "Go to my laboratory, outside this room, turn left its five doors down and on the right. Bring me the red colored potion with bits of white sediment on the bottom; it's on the third shelf to the left, eight potions down. Then bring me two doses of Pepper Up potion, I trust you know what that looks like by now, they are on the second shelf also to the left. Also there is a dark green potion first shelf to the _right _and two vials down, it's to replenish Mr. Potter's magical core, as it has been severely drained." He stared down his nose at her and then barked when she didn't move right away, "Now Miss Granger." She started and turned around so quickly that she nearly tripped on his carpet.

He watched her go with a snort and began to cast the first of multiple spells at the Weasley boy.

"_Sanguis__mederi__reparandum__manat…_" Potter watched him as he chanted, his eyes lidded and his hold on the other man never wavering. Severus ignored him concentrating all his energy on completing the spell.

Only when the twin's color had returned to a normal pink instead of that clammy off white that was usually only present in those very near death did he break the connection between the two. He took another look at their wet bodies and cast a quick drying spell, wondering why he hadn't thought of it before.

He chalked it up to the fact that they had surprised him in bed.

"Potions Master Snape!" Granger gasped stumbling into the room, arms full of potions. He barely spared her a glance before levitating them from her hold and examining them. She had at least managed to follow directions and find the right ones. He picked up the red one and opened Weasley's mouth pouring it directly down his throat and making sure that all the bits at the bottom went with it as well. The potion was an early form of the _Omnis Medela_. It cured most wizarding aliments but none of the muggle ones, which was the point of the potion after all. It would cure whatever after effects any dark magic had on the man.

Sure enough once the potion slid down his throat he began to cough and regain some more color on his cheeks, Severus gave him the Pepper Up potion next. At the redhead's level of exhaustion it wouldn't wake him, but it would supply him with some more energy. With a shake of his head Severus braced himself to treat Potter.

He was still awake, partially sitting up, his green eyes boring holes into him. Severus had to look away for a moment as a sharp memory of Lily overtook him.

"You will take this potion, as I said before, it will restore you core, it took a large hit and surely any witch or wizard less powerful then you would have died. You are lucky that Miss Granger found you when she did." He glanced back at the aforementioned girl, who was standing in the doorway, twisting the fabric of her skirt in her hands. He twisted back around and held out the potion, eyeing Potter as he made up his mind whether or not to take the potion. In the end he ceded and downed it in one go.

"This Pepper Up is for when you wake up, now go to sleep. _Somnum_." He flicked his wand and Potter's admirable cognizance gave way to the spell. Satisfied that both men would be fine Severus fixed his scowl on the one other person in the room.

"Explain."

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><p>Hermione gulped. Even after all these years, she couldn't get over her slight fear of the retired potion professor. It was the way he stood. She decided. Leaning over everyone with his height, hair falling around his face like a curtain, forcing her to look directing into his eyes.<p>

"Well, sir, professor- I mean Potions Master, sorry." She took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten in her head, "Harry and I, well we went to break George out of Azkaban. He was put in there after _Ron_, reported him to the Aurors. Anyway, everything was fine until Harry tried to get rid of this last ward. It was really old and malicious and I think some part of it attached to Harry, though I'm not entirely sure about that. Anyway, we tripped some sort of silent alarm and the next thing we knew there was just this wall of dementors and Harry made me apparate back to his flat. They've been missing for almost three weeks. I'm actually surprised nothing was in the papers."

"And Potter did not think to apparate himself and the Weasley to safety? What did he think? That he could take on that many dementors on his own?" He snorted and sneered at Hermione, "Gryffindor arrogance."

"Well that's it, the whole story. From what I know at least, I couldn't get Harry to tell me what he had done to get them out of there, but I do know that he used some sort of dark magic. It was practically leaking from the walls when I got to his place, even the muggles were looking about with a sense of foreboding." Hermione wrinkled her nose, remembering the way it smelled.

"I am sure Potter will delight in detailing his heroic's to us when he wakes, which won't be until several days."

"You don't know him at all." Snape's head snapped up and he leveled is old student with a stare that could cut diamonds. "You think he revels in the attention he gets. It's the opposite, but you are too busy with your head up your arse to notice that your unfounded assumptions about him are entirely off base."

"Such kind words for the man who just saved your friends lives. I could have let them die you know."

"You wouldn't." It was a statement.

"And what makes you think that _Miss _Granger?" Snape's voice had become velvety, in the way Hermione remembered it becoming when someone was about to get house points deducted. But they weren't at Hogwarts anymore. She stood a little straighter and brushed out the wrinkles in her skirt that her squirming hands had created.

"Because you need Harry's help. Letting him die would only-"

The door to Snape's room pushed open and Hermione turned to see a beady little man walk through. At first glance she thought he could be attractive, but it was his eyes and the way he walked that had her thinking he wasn't so pleasant after all. He looked at her and gave her what could be a smile, or a grimace. And walked into the room as though it were his.

"Sev, what is-" He pulled up short when he noticed the two men sleeping on, what Hermione assumed was, his lover's bed. Barring his teeth at them he slunk over to drape himself over Snape. Hermione was reminded harshly of a rat. The man showed her his teeth again and she all but snorted at his display of possessiveness.

"Who are you _girl_. You aren't welcome here."

"Jealous?" Hermione mocked before turning her attention to Snape, this man wasn't worth her time and if she read him right ignoring him would irritate him the most. Just like Peterson he was. She swallowed what words she had to say when the look on Snape's face caught her eye.

His mouth was pinched shut and his whole body vibrated with the need to escape. His eyes bulged slightly and the fingers of his left hand continually clenched and unclenched.

"Off, Donald." Hermione started, Donald?

Donald made a noise that closely resembled one of Tigger's purrs and slid liquidly off the ex-professor. Even in an action so simple as that Hermione felt a wave of revulsion come over her. How Snape could manage to be near him was baffling. Donald gave her another sneer and sat in one of the plush armchairs that adorned Snape's room. She sent in a scathing look in retaliation and fixed her attention once again on the greasy git.

"Is there anything else you need me for? Only I have to be at work soon, would it be alright if I left them here with you?"

The dark haired man gestured to his bed, "I don't think that question requires a proper answer. Be gone with you, you can return tonight. Though please, take my apparation coordinates with you. I would hate for you to barge in on my bathing the same way you did my sleep." Hermione blushed a bright crimson and took the transfigured parchment with his coordinates on them. She threw him a half hearted wave and left.

As she closed the door behind her Hermione had to wonder if it was more dangerous to leave them in the care of Snape…

Or Donald.

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><p>Please review and tell me whether or not you would like me to bring Ron more into the story.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N- I have realized, that some of the jumps between the chapters eliminate a lot of time, because of this I have decided to take the next week to rectify this, which means editing chapters. So if you have alerted this story don't expect a new chapter until the 18th after this one and just ignore all emails until then, unless you want to read the newly edited chapters. Also it has come to my attention that some aspects of my story are unclear. I will clarify these things, though the Azkaban scene will stay, as it was the only thing I could think of to get George out, my apologies for the window. I may need a beta soon so if anyone would like the position send me a message and I will take you under consideration. Please enjoy the chapter.

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><p>Harry opened his eyes, sticky sleep boogers pulling at the edges of his lids. Groaning he rolled over and swallowed, the fuzz of dryness flooding his mouth so suddenly it made him gag. He must have been asleep for a while then, he reasoned. A few days perhaps. The room he was in was unfamiliar, white walls, dark stained wood floors. No furniture to be seen except the bed he was in and a smart little armchair that looked recently sat in. Further investigation exposed a second door, one that presumably led to the loo, and a large painting on the far right wall. It was of a small old man, perhaps in his late hundreds if he was a wizard, standing awkwardly in a corner and a rickety end table perched next to him. The painting glared at him and turned up his nose, vanishing from the portrait with a sniff of indignation.<p>

Rolling his eyes Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Or at least he tried to. His arms, weak with neglect, refused to carry his weight. Instead of pushing himself up the action served only to have him flop back down in an undignified lump of limbs.

"Harry!" The door opened and an ecstatic Hermione rushed in, face flushed bright red. She settled delicately on the bed, careful not to jostle him and stared at him with bright eyes. He felt like he was a precious Ming vase.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how worried I was!" She lunged forward to hug him and stopped herself mid way, settling instead for a small pat on Harry's shoulder. "I would hug you but Snape says the potion will have drained your physical body in trying to heal your magical core. I'm not to touch you. Well, not too much at least." She smiled and gave him another little pat.

They annoyed him, those pats.

"Snape? You took us to Snape's house? We're in Snape's house?" He tried once again to rush upwards only to have gravity and Hermione's hand force him back down.

"Of course," She muttered to herself casting a pitying glance at him, "You wouldn't remember. How silly of me to think you would." Pulling herself from her moment of reflection, Hermione gave Harry another small touch and began to explain.

"Well you see I was on my way to your flat, I had gone everyday to feed the cat and wait for you to come back. Anyways I went to your flat and the entire place reeked of dark magic I mean it was absolutely _rotten, _Harry. You are going to tell me what you did to get out of there you know." She sent him a shrewd look. "You were barely conscious and George was so still at first I thought he was dead and you kept telling me to get you somewhere safe, and of course being me I insisted on knowing the facts first, sorry about that by the way. Finally it hit me that you were probably dying and so I apparated us to the first person I could think of that was adept at healing and who would keep our secret, Snape."

Harry held up a hand to halt her in case she had anymore to add, "I'm sorry but, why Snape? You couldn't think of anyone else? I mean… its Snape!"

Hermione smacked him lightly on the forehead, "You should be grateful I did you prat. Otherwise you'd both be dead. Snape's potions saved you and George's lives. And anyway, I only thought of him because of that conversation you told me the two of you had in the pub. He wanted you to help him with the attack on gays, so we know he wouldn't betray us to the Ministry and he's a Potions Master. And anyone knows potions and healing go hand in hand. It was the most logical choice." She smiled warmly at him.

"And after that, you can't just stop at 'and then I brought you here'. Obviously he did something to us what was it?"

"You know I find it odd that you haven't even asked after George."

"It would have been the first thing you said Hermione, now please, finish the story." He shook his head in exasperation as she threw him an impish look.

"Oh, _alright_. Snape had me get some potions, so I wasn't in there for whatever spell he used and honestly I was too relieved you guys were alright to ask what it was. Anyways, one of the potions was kind of a… universal healer that he and his _partner_," Her face curled into a sneer on the word, "Invented. It healed George the rest of the way and then he gave you this magical core supplement and sent you to sleep. That reminds me." She held up one finger for him to wait and rummaged around her pockets. She pulled an indigo potion from the depths of one of them and popped open the stopper. "It's a Pepper Up potion, open wide."

Harry's mouth opened obediently before he could think about it and he felt the cool potion slide its way down his throat. Grimacing at the taste and gagging a little as some of it went down his windpipe, he tried once again to sit up. The movement was difficult and strained muscles he didn't know he used let alone had, but he managed it. Hermione was watching him with thoughtful eyes.

"Feeling better?"

"Loads." Hermione nodded, adjusted her position on the bed and then punched him in the arm. Harry cried out in a mixture of surprise and pain and gave her a bewildered look.

"That is for being one of the biggest arseholes on the planet. What were you thinking trying to take on those dementors by yourself? Why not simply apparate out the way you had me do? Are you a closet nihilist? Do you think there is no point to anything so you might as well kill yourself off now! I was ripping myself to pieces on the inside and then _of course _I still had to go to work because it would look suspicious if I didn't all the while trying to keep myself from falling apart and then! Then I ended up crying in front of Malfoy, MALFOY! If you ever do something so unbelievably stupid and irresponsible again Harry James Potter, you will wish those dementors had got you." Her eyes blazed and she leaned forward into his face, forcing him to lean back into the pillows.

"Alright, I'm sorry Hermione, really. And I don't quite know what I was thinking not apparating out okay? It was stupid and it won't happen again." He ducked his head to avoid the wrath of her gaze and then blew out a breath of relief when she moved away.

"Yes well anyway-" Her sentence was cut short when an explosion rocked the manor. She jumped and turned to face the door.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Harry asked scrambling to get into a better position to defend himself. Hermione waved a hand at him to sit back down and kept watching the door.

"George and Snape, they've been experimenting on potions with each other since George woke up three days ago."

"Three days-?"

George burst through the door a triumphant grin on his face. He was covered nearly from head to toe in a powdery yellow substance. It trailed in through the door after him and scattered about the room as he twirled around.

"Why are you so happy? Your potion just exploded." Hermione asked, cocking one eyebrow. George swept across the room and lifted her off of the bed spinning her around once before setting her back down.

"Because that was what was supposed to happen!" He clapped once, sending more of the powder spiraling through the air. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, now both eyebrows crawling towards her hairline.

"Somehow I don't believe that."

"Well, not _exactly _but the powder! Merlin Hermione the powder, I told Severus that we needed to focus on a solid solution, not liquid. And I was right! Now all we need to do is control the reaction level of the mountain beetle in comparison to the lizard skin and we'll- Oh hi Harry. Didn't notice you'd woken up." He beamed at the raven haired man, who was sitting in the bed, puzzled look etched into his features. "You have to pee?"

Harry jerked at the off the cuff question, "No of course…" But like a child who didn't know he was hurt until he saw the wound, Harry was unaware of his desperate need to use the facilities until he thought about them, "Yes, I have to pee, I have to pee now." George laughed and helped haul him out of bed. Much to the protest of Hermione who twittered about advising George to be _gentle_.

"He isn't a doll Hermione; a bit of rough handling will do him good. Besides, how else do you suggest I take him to the loo? Severus said not to use any magic besides potions on him. The physical way is the way it's got to be." He dragged Harry into the bathroom and shut the door on Hermione's reply that Snape had said nothing about levitating something else with Harry on it, and to be more careful.

"Thank Merlin," George sighed when her voice cut off, "She's been at it this whole time. 'Be careful George! Don't strain yourself George! Are you alright George! Let me take that George!'" He faked a falsetto as he imitated Hermione and Harry snorted, "I know she's concerned but it's getting on my bloody nerves!" He released his hold on the younger man and Harry immediately began to wobble and fall over.

"Whoa there," George fumbled to get a hold of him before his head hit the sink and guided him to the toilet. "Guess I'll have to hold you up. You don't need me to unzip you or… hold your-"

"No!" Harry yelped, "N-no, I'm fine. I can handle that myself _thanks_." They went about the awkward business of Harry taking a piss and cleaning himself up silently but for the few snickers that either one would utter once and a while to ease the uncomfortable atmosphere. When he was finished George sniggered and half pulled half carried him back to the bedroom. He deposited him back onto the bed where Harry collapsed with the exertion going to the bathroom had placed on him.

"Well, I'll go tell Severus you're awake." The redhead winked and slipped from the room, leaving way for another person to enter.

"Donald." Hermione murmured. Her voice tight and coiled. The man, Donald, bowed mockingly at her, bending stiffly at the waist and shooting her a brutal look and flicking his gaze over to Harry. His face instantly changed from harsh lines to the softer curves of concern. He stepped towards the bed, only to be blocked by the looming form of Hermione. Harry had never seen Hermione _loom_ before.

He didn't know she was capable of it.

"Is there something you need, _Donald_?" Her voice oozed false sweetness, and though he couldn't see since her as her back was turned away from him, Harry assumed her eyes were narrowed into catlike slits. Donald fell back a step and sneered, the action warping the planes of his mouth to something almost grotesque. The feat didn't look right on him, Harry decided.

"Only to meet the Savior of the Wizarding World. Is that a problem?" His voice was a tad nasally and there was a hint of a contrived lisp underneath it all and it surprised Harry with its American twang. It wormed into his skin. There was something off about it, though every time Harry thought he knew what it was his mind slid away from it. He placed himself in a more formal position on the bed and inclined his head.

"Hello, Donald is it? Am I right in presuming you're Snape's… boyfriend? Sorry I'm not sure about the title you prefer." Hermione's back tensed as Harry spoke and she didn't relinquish her position as his body guard.

Donald smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth, "Boyfriend is fine."

"It is not." Snape's sleek tone cut through the space. Harry didn't know when he had arrived, but there he was. Filling the doorway with his length. His black eyes tracked a path between Harry and Donald, narrowing when his… friend turned to flash a sheepish grin. He pushed his long greasy hair from his forehead as he walked fluidly into the room.

Or then again, maybe it wasn't so greasy. Now that Harry looked closely at it the locks were clean and silky, like Ginny's. He supposed he had never had the opportunity to truly examine his professor before and found, as he looked at him, that many of his allusions had been, incorrect.

To say the least.

Snape had a skinny frame, too skinny. If he turned sideways Harry was sure he'd disappear. But he was strong as well, muscular, if only because there was no fat to block the muscles from showing. His skin was pale, paler than he remembered Malfoy's being. But his hands were what captivated Harry the most; they were large, long fingered and slim.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that staring is _rude _Potter?" His sharp voice cut through the fog in Harry's mind. Donald and Hermione were gone; he must have missed some important conversation that dismissed them.

"Not recently no."

"It's good that you're awake now you can explain what happened since George was unconscious throughout everything after he cast the Patronus Charm."

"On a first name basis are you?" Harry snapped.

"Keep your mind on the question Potter."

"I-" Harry blinked, "I don't remember."

Well that wasn't good.

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><p>Draco watched the door to Granger's office with calculating eyes. She had been happier these past four days, coming into the department with a smile on her face and a literal bounce in her step.<p>

It was disgusting. No one should be that annoyingly happy. She was even humming when she came in today. It made his plan harder to put into action. Draco had been counting on her being upset and vulnerable and therefore more open to his request. But now she was happy again. He fiddled with his quill and tapped his foot against the leg of the table before remembering that he was in the partial public and that Malfoy's didn't conduct themselves in such a manner.

The door opened and Granger walked out. Her hair was finally clean and her nails which had been shredded to the quick were neat and manicured again. The light was back in her eyes and she even taunted him again.

Yes this defiantly made things harder.

"Do you have the Magic Carpet permits the Ministry wanted?" She extended her hand when she reached his desk. And Draco glanced at it pointedly.

"You don't even wait to see if I have them finished before shoving your palm under my nose? That's horribly rude Miss Granger."

She shrugged, her collar bone looking delicate as it shifted in the movement, "You obviously have them."

"Be that as it may," Draco sneered as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the particular set of files, "It's still impolite. You should break yourself of the habit, lest you offend someone higher up then you."

"Why Draco, so nice of you to be thinking of my occupational security." She took the files and turned to return to her office. Before talking himself out of it Draco stood up and grabbed the meaty part of her arm.

"Wait Granger,"

"Malfoy, wouldn't you say it was _impolite_ to grab your superior so?" She cocked her head to the side, but the laughter in her eyes let Draco know that she wasn't serious.

"Come to dinner with me and some friends?" The words rushed out in a quick stream. Granger stared at him for long moments. Too long. He could feel the sweat build up inbetween his toes and behind his ears. She stared at him for so long that Draco considered that she may have been hit with a stray _Stupefy. _

He had all but given up when she shook her head and blinked up at him.

"Sure."

Oh.

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><p>Reviews warm my soul.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N- Sorry for the wrong date, I meant to put 19th but instead it said 18th. Besides that, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

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><p>Harry made his way down the winding stairs, clutching at the railing in order to keep on his feet. He had only just woken up a day ago so it was not unimaginable that he still be physically weak, but still. Harry thought his strength should have returned to him by now. After all, George was bouncing around Snape's manor with a level of energy one generally attributed to children and he hadn't been awake much longer than Harry. It was maddening.<p>

Voices greeted his ears as he reached the bottom of the steps, and not just Snape's voice or Hermione's, no it sounded as though the old bat had company. Fully intrigued, Harry made his way carefully to the living room. The room was ostentatiously decorated. Something Harry would never have thought Snape would like. Large, beautiful couches. There were petite end tables with slender, elegant lamps sitting upon them. A large, ornamental rug rested on the floor and dozens of paintings hung on the walls.

He felt as though he had walked onto the set of an eighteenth century film.

A pale, dark haired woman turned to stare at him, her hair piled up into a loose bun. She was beautiful, and could only be Pansy Parkinson. Her face was free of make-up, something that took Harry by surprise, and her icy blue eyes held him in an iron grip.

"Potter," Her voice was deeper than he had expected and strangely sexual. Or maybe it was just the way she moved her lips that had Harry imagining she wanted to eat him. Either way, it was entirely too enticing.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione smiled, standing up from her seat in between an olive skinned man with dark eyes and…

Draco Malfoy.

He was settled on the left end of the couch. A large glass of brandy trapped between the long, pale fingers of his right hand, legs crossed and the most peculiar of expressions on his face. It seemed to be the combination of a sneer and a smile. It didn't suit him, Harry thought, smirking. Malfoy leveled him with a gaze filled with so much restraint that it had Harry closing his mouth, swallowing the insult that had been waiting on his tongue. The blonde continued to stare, his gaze burning him. His posture suggested that he wanted to be friendly, but his eyes clearly expressed his wish to hex him. So why hold back?

And suddenly there was a hand on his arm, dragging him backwards into the kitchen. Hermione forced him into a hard chair and stared him in the eye, her face mere inches from his.

"You are going to be polite Harry James Potter or you'll be at the wrong end of my patience." Her skinny index finger jabbed him in the chest, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to have him rubbing the spot and glaring at her.

"They are my and Snape's company, and I won't tolerate your rudeness, Draco has agreed to hold his tongue and you should as well, otherwise this night will be entirely ruined." She hung her head for a moment, before pulling it up and uttering a little sigh, "I suppose I should explain-"

"Are you dating Malfoy? Why did you call him Draco?" Harry spat, pushing himself back in the chair in order to look at her more fully. Her face blushed a clear scarlet and she shoved some of her untamable locks behind her right ear, the act gave Harry no hope, "How could you Hermione? He's worse than Snape! We hate each other! We've always hated each other!" His voice rose to a ridiculously high level and Hermione hastily cast a privacy ward.

"Shh, Harry. You are being too loud!" She gave him a smart smack on the shoulder and pressed him back into the chair when he surged upwards. He was going to find that idiot and curse his balls off.

"Of course I'm being loud; you're dating that evil, condescending, bigoted, ferret-git!" He tried once again to get up from the chair, determined to confront that sneaky bastard but Hermione cast an _immobulus_ and he fell back, sputtering and spitting his indignation all the way.

"Will you be quiet and let me explain myself?" Hermione demanded rapping her pointy knuckles over the top of his head. She huffed and crossed her arms, pacing across the cracked tiles of Snape's kitchen. She whirled around to glower at Harry's immobile form.

"There is nothing to explain Hermione, you are dating my-"

"I am not dating Draco Malfoy!" Hermione screeched, her patience gone, "If you would sit down and bloody well _shut up_ for two seconds instead of jumping to conclusions I would have been able to explain!" Her face was so close to his now that their noses were actually touching, her eyes blistering him with their exasperation. Harry swallowed, suddenly aware of the drain the argument had been on him, and readied himself for some yelling.

"Alright, I'm sorry. But if you aren't dating the ferret, why extract a promise of behavior from him? And from me for that matter?"

"Because this is Snape's house and it should be treated with respect, because if we let you two go at it like cats and dogs we wouldn't have an enjoyable night and because I'm dating Blaise Zabini and Draco is being nice to you because his best friend is seeing me."

Oh.

_Oh_…

He couldn't pull his eyes from Hermione's face. Couldn't even think because all he could hear was the tip-tip-tapping of the leaky faucet in the corner and the gentle flickering buzz of the lights overhead. There was no room for thought when everything was so loud. Harry blinked, dark lashes covering his green eyes which he had held so wide they burned with unshed tears. Hermione frowned at him and ran a thumb underneath his ear.

"Not Malfoy then?" The simple words were all his mind could handle. And he didn't know what made it so hard for him to grasp. The fact that Hermione was seeing a Slytherin. Or the fact that Hermione _wasn't_ seeing Ron. He still felt loyalty to the third part of the Golden Trio, even if it had been a little over a month since they had had contact. Ron was still his best mate.

"Yes." Hermione spoke slowly; rolling the syllables together so that Harry's overwhelmed brain could focus on the sounds. "We met just yesterday. Draco asked me to dinner, I thought it was a courting gesture from him, but in reality he had only asked as a favor to his friend. I know," She smiled as Harry choked on whatever he wanted to say, "I was surprised to. But we… are surprisingly well suited to one another, Blaise and I. I think."

"Happy," Harry rasped, "Are you happy?"

"Don't be silly Harry; it's far too soon to know if we'll be happy together, but I am certainly not unhappy." She stood abruptly and ended the privacy ward and _immobulus_ charm_._

"I'm going back out; it's horribly uncouth to leave guests by themselves. Snape wants to see you in his lab though, or else I would ask if you wanted to have some tea and a bit of chocolate with us." Harry nodded at her back as she retreated into the living room, his head bobbling like one of those toys you could get in a McDonald's children's meal. He had no idea where the lab was seeing as this was his first adventure out of the bedroom Snape and Donald had fashioned for him. He figured a lab would be somewhere in the basement, dark and damp. Good for storing potion ingredients, that and the slimy git probably felt right at home down there.

Hermione had hauled him through the door on the left. So he supposed he'd begin with the door on the right, since he didn't really want to see Hermione making eyes at someone that wasn't Ron.

He hobbled towards the door he had chosen, one hand trailing along the wall, propping him up. The door led to what looked like a formal dining room, there was a long table set directly in the center of it and twelve chairs set gracefully against the table. There was no cutlery or fine china upon the table the way there had always been in the Dursley's formal dining area. Perhaps Snape didn't have any. But a look around the lavish décor told Harry that of course he did.

Ignoring the furnishings for the moment, Harry glanced around to see how many doors there were.

There were four, stretched out evenly along the walls.

Sighing he went to open the door closest to him when the one directly to his right flew open. Donald marched through, muttering little obscenities under his breath and stomping his feet. He rubbed his hands through is lanky hair, causing it to stick straight up, and cast dark looks to the door every now and then. And then he caught sight of Harry and his entire demeanor changed.

"Ah, Harry. I wondered when you would be strong enough to leave the bedroom on your own." He smiled, showing off his straight teeth and Harry smiled back. He couldn't see what Hermione found so off putting about him, so _wrong_. He was a pleasant enough man. Possibly a little too enthusiastic at times, but friendly.

"Yes, I was sick of being cooped up in there doing nothing," Donald nodded gravely, as though he knew exactly how it felt, "Oh, but Hermione told me Snape was looking for me, in the lab or something. Would you mind showing me the way?" Harry hesitated to ask, not wanting to make Donald go out of his way to help him.

He shouldn't have worried. Donald swept him a low bow, somehow making the action look natural instead of mocking and extended his arm, "It would be my pleasure." He smiled again, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in the most pleasing way. Harry took the proffered arm gratefully, he had been getting tired.

Donald put him as ease the way no one else seemed to; he would never have taken anyone else's arm. Especially not someone he knew as little as the one whom he was leaning on now. Harry wondered why that was, but shook the thought out a moment later. Donald was a nice man; of course he would feel comfortable around him.

The auburn haired gentleman led him to the door he had just come out of. "This is Sev's private lab; we have another one, just one door down. It's quite confusing even to me let alone company." Donald put on a miserable little face and Harry laughed, something which made Donald break out into a wide grin and grasp a little more tightly to Harry's arm, "Anyway, I'm not usually allowed down here, at least not since a particular incident. And neither is anyone else, except for that Weasley man. Severus as infinite patience for _him_," Donald bit out the last few words. "I think Sev wants to experiment with returning your memory, this way." He pulled Harry down the last remaining steps and knocked on a heavy wooden door that sat at the bottom.

"I've already told you no Donald; must you come begging at my door like some spoilt child?" Snape's voice filtered through the door, cold and silky. Donald pouted next to Harry and knocked again.

"I was under the impression that you wished to see Harry, if that is no longer the case I'll take him away. I'm sure we can find something enjoyable to do with our time."

The door creaked open and Snape's tall frame glared down at them, black eyes boring holes into them. He opened the door a little wider and nodded to Harry.

"Enter." Harry gave him a shrewd look before throwing an apologetic smile over his shoulder, Donald smiled back before his image was shut out by the slamming door. "Sit." Snape pointed to a stool positioned in the middle of the room. Harry stood for a moment longer in rebellion and then sat, fixing the old potions professor with a uninterested gaze.

"You could be a little nicer to him you know. Whatever it is he's done, I'm sure living with you being mad at him for so long was punishment enough." Harry sniffed, crossing his arms.

Snape paused and cast Harry and incredulous look, "You have no idea what it is he has done. Perhaps his still being with me is testament to the admirable extent of my forgiveness. As you know nothing of this, however, you can have nothing to say." He sat down on a stool he had pulled close during his little speech and met Harry's eyes. "I wish to perform legilimency upon you. To see, for one, if there is actually a block on your mind, and second, whether or not I can remove the block." He waited expectantly for Harry's answer.

"I don't think I trust you enough to run free in my mind _Snape,_ you might go looking for things other than what you should." Harry narrowed his eyes so far into slits that Snape wasn't sure he could still actually see out of them.

"Believe me; I have no interest in the adolescent thoughts of sex that no doubt fill every corner of your mind _Potter_. Nor do I wish to indulge myself with memories of your no doubt happy childhood. This is as much an imposition for me as it is you. But I assumed you would like to know what, if anything was blocking your memory. Was I wrong?" His voice came out as fine as satin and his eyes had grown even darker, if that was even possible. Harry curled his hands into fists and twisted them in his lap.

"_Fine_, but if I so much as think you're looking at things you shouldn't, I'll throw you out." He glared fiercely at the man and then closed his eyes, "Just get it over with."

Snape snorted and Harry could imagine his nose crinkling with the expression.

"It would give me no greater pleasure, then to 'just get it over with'." Harry rolled his eyes behind the lids and then gasped as a sharp presence entered his mind. He struggled with allowing it in, that natural defense he had against the _Imperius _curse rising up to push the intruder out. He forced it down before it could harm Snape as he dove deeper into the recesses of his mind.

And then, before he had time to make sure Snape kept good on his promise, his world went black.

* * *

><p>Severus swam through the darkness that was Harry's mind. Here and there jagged colors would stab their way through and tempt Severus with the memories they contained. But he was far to experienced to let them distract him. So far there had been no sign of a memory charm being used. But he knew that didn't mean there <em>hadn't<em> been one used. Perhaps the person who cast it was brilliantly adept at the spell and could weave it without leaving too much of a trace. He went deeper and deeper, and the colors turned from blues and greens to harsh blacks and reds. Strange colors to find in someone's mind that had been spoiled like Severus knew Harry had been.

Those were the colors one would find in _his _mind.

Shaking his head Severus dug deeper, ignoring the colors that floated on the edge of his mind and tried to tempt him with their dancing. He was here for one thing only, and that thing wasn't delving into dark memories. He shoved more and more of the colors aside, barring his teeth at them, they were thickest here, clustered around one pinpoint of inky blackness.

_Ah…_

His mind hissed in pleasure. The Potter boy had been subjected to the _Obliviate. _Though whoever had cast it knew exactly how to hide the evidence. And it was simple enough to tear apart, not in one session of course. Something this skilled would require several days to completely eradicate.

But Severus could start now, and see perhaps a glimpse of what had happened. He shed his mind out like a whip, latching onto the pinpoint and using his knowledge of legilimencyto slowly pull at it. It trembled underneath his power and tried desperately to distract him with more of those pointed colors. But Severus was like a bulldog once he sank his teeth into something. He pulled and drew the pinpoint out until it made a tiny window. Like one brick falling from a wall. Satisfied Severus swam up to the hole and peered inside.

The landscape was dark, and dead, nothing moved. The quiet was eerie. He could feel the cold and wet that Harry had felt. He was soaked to his bones. Short hair plastered to his forehead and clothes weighing heavy on his already exhausted body. He was dragging George across the dry, cracked ground, whimpering in pain and fear as he went. The red head looked dead. Eyes open and glazed, his body as limp as a doll's. Harry was openly sobbing now. The muscles in his arm stretched to the limit as he continued to pull on the body of his friend. He was determined to get somewhere, his fingers bloody as the scraped across the harsh ground. Or maybe he was _running _from something.

And then the air stilled, and all the color drained from Harry's face. His wide green eyes stared in horror at something in front of him. Severus turned to look and was thrown from the memory and back into his body. But not before he had caught a glimpse of what had Harry practically in hysterics.

Harry sat panting in front of him, sweat soaking through his clothes. His eyes were wild and almost feral.

"What was that?" He gasped chest heaving with the effort to bring air to his lungs. Severus stared back, mouth agape.

"I don't know." And in front of his eyes again was the last image he saw. Of that ruined mouth, opening and closing. Opening and closing, not able to form words, but still remembering the way it once spoke. That ruin of a mouth, sitting in that ruin of a face, reaching out to swallow him whole.

"But I will find out."


	10. Chapter 10

This is kinda a short chapter, have massive massive writers block. Hope you enjoy and welcome to 2012!

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><p>Harry watched Snape pace the narrow room with narrowed eyes. He looked like a panther, prowling about all snarls and spitting. Finally he stopped, fixing Harry with a glare. The green eyed man held up his hands in innocence, he hadn't done anything to deserve the hostility. Snape grunted and Harry realized that he wasn't actually <em>angry<em> just frustrated. Snape threw himself into a smart little chair and rested his elbows on his knees, fingers propping up his chin. His stare was unnerving and Harry had to fight to keep himself from fidgeting under it.

"Do you have any idea what that _thing _was?" Snape asked his voice cutting through the pregnant air. It was the same question he had asked thirty minutes ago. And Harry still had no answer.

"No, I told you already, I have no idea what it was, or if it was even real." It flashed into his mind. Pale faced, with eyes that glowed milky white and that mouth. That mouth that seemed like an afterthought, crooked, a slash against the pale rot that was its skin. Teeth shoved up every which way, looking more like a mouthful of glass than anything else. No, Harry didn't know what it was, or how he had escaped it, if it truly existed. Snape hissed from his chair across from him.

"That is no good Potter; I won't risk entering your mind again so soon. And even if I do bring out your lost memories there is no telling that you will truly _remember._" He broke off and began muttering things to himself. Harry caught the words "ministry" and "fucking" before Snape practically jumped out of the chair and marched out of the room, leaving Harry to wonder if it was revelation that had him up and running, or irritation.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy was bored. When he had finally caved and brought Granger to dinner he had thought that was it. Surely Blaise didn't need a babysitter for <em>all<em> his dates. He had, however, woefully underestimated the cowardice of Blaise Zabini. Granger, it seemed, scared the bloody hell out of his Italian friend, and Blaise couldn't bear the thought of making a fool out of himself in front of her. And so Draco's presence was required, along with Pansy's; though she enjoyed the idea far more than he did. At the moment Blaise was fidgeting on the sofa next to him pulling at the tassels on one of the cushions, Granger was doing something in the kitchens, though why a house elf could not do the same thing…

Oh yes.

He had almost forgotten her ridiculous obsession with house elves. He looked to Blaise again and saw that he had now progressed to _pulling _the offending threads out. He reached over and covered his friends hand with his own.

"Blaise, if Severus sees you destroying his precious furniture he'll kill you." Blaise's brown eyes widened and he tugged on his hand to get it back. But Draco was not finished. He clamped down digging his nails in slightly to emphasis the importance of this last point. "Stop. Your. Worrying. She likes you well enough, if she didn't we all wouldn't be on a second 'date'. So quit being such a child about it and find your courage. Since when are you scared of women anyway?" He let go of Blaise's hand a finger at a time and shuffled himself back over into his corner of the couch.

"I know! I can't help it with her. She's just so smart and so beautiful; it's difficult to be around her. Ugh!" He leaned on the arm of the couch, hands covering his eyes. Draco snorted with thinly veiled contempt and Pansy smiled, clicking her tongue. She shook her head, silky black curls sliding around her face.

"Blaise, Blaise, Blaise, of course you are intimidated. Hermione is a wonderful woman, all the things a man might want. It's quite natural to fear the fact that she has somehow chosen you." She would have added more, of that Draco was entirely sure of, but the door to the kitchen was creaking open and Hermione was backing out a large tray piled with tea and biscuits and other small foods balancing rather precariously in her arms. The blond stood from his seat and swept the tray from her hands, sneering at her when she looked at him in gratitude.

"Why is there so much food on this tray? We just ate dinner; did you really think we were still hungry?" She frowned and shook her head, running her palm over her hair.

"No, I was just going to get some tea and a few biscuits together. But the house elves caught me before I could get away." She gave him a rueful look and settled herself back in her seat. Blaise, who had righted himself from his earlier position of shame, was shooting Draco a dark look. Confused Draco set the tray on the small table in front of them and snagged a cucumber sandwich. Hermione smiled at him and proceeded to pour out four cups of tea.

"What is it?" Draco asked, sniffing the cup's contents. It smelt like a delicious mix of peach and cream… and something else. Utterly intoxicating.

"Peach Melba. Some sort of expensive tea." She smiled at him again and Blaise shot him another look. Pansy watched the proceedings one eyebrow raised.

"So, Blaise, I know I should have asked before but, what is it you do?" Hermione turned her gaze on the Italian and he promptly snatched back the hand that had been making rude gestures at Draco.

"I work for a commercial firm. We advertise people's inventions, ideas, things like that." He shrugged.

"Oh, what is it called?"

"Danbury Productions."

"They do muggle commercials!" Hermione blushed a little at her outburst and then continued, "I mean, I've heard of them, they do very nice work. I think my parents actually advertised their business through Danbury."

"Yes, we dabble in a little bit of everything." He looked uncomfortable with continued attention he was receiving and sunk at little into his seat. Hermione, smart as she was, turned and invited to group to discuss their Hogwarts days.

Draco groaned as the girls started chattering on about how much they had hated each other. He would never understand women, why on earth were they happy that they had once been enemies? Blaise, when he looked at him seemed just as confused.

Oh well, Draco decided, at least it broke some of the tension.

The rest of the evening went on fairly well; he had four cups of the delicious Peach Melba tea and two more of the little sandwiches. Conversation had stayed pleasant and Granger had been an excellent host. Seeing as Severus had never come back to be the host. Blaise had given her a kiss on the cheek as they left.

Almost as soon as the door to the manor closed Draco felt himself being shoved.

"What in the bloody hell are you playing at Blaise?" Draco spat.

"What on earth did you think you were pulling in there? Taking the tray from her, and then flirting!" Draco felt his mouth drop; Blaise thought he had been flirting with _Granger_? They may have called a truce but that did not mean that he was going to pursue her romantically.

"Are you bloody mental?"

"It did look bad for you Draco," Pansy said calmly, "I know you didn't mean to flirt. But it _was_ rather chivalrous to take the tray for her. And such things do make impressions on women." Draco wanted to pull his hair out by the roots.

"Of course I took the damned tray! It was going to fall over if I hadn't, besides it is the gentlemanly thing to do. I'm sorry that Blaise was too busy wallowing in self pity to think of it first. I mean Merlin it was practically a see-saw in her arms!" He flung his arms into the air in exasperation. "Can we just get to the apparation point so I can get away from the nonsense you two are spewing?" Blaise growled and spun around, stomping away, Pansy gave him a measured look and followed him.

Draco muttered a prayer for strength and gave pursuit.

* * *

><p><em>His arms were tired, so tired and heavy. But he couldn't stop, stopping meant George would die. His fingers clawed at the ground, pulling the nails from them. Blood made his hand slick, slippery it was hard to grab at the dead, cracked, ground. His grip on George was weakening, the fabric of his robe shifting out of his grip. A sob tore itself out of his throat as he tried to wrap more and more of the fabric around his hand. He pulled, moving them another inch. The hand that dragged them was now completely without fingernails, and it hurt. <em>

_ The wet of their clothes pulled on them, adding more weight for Harry to carry. And he already had to carry so much. Another sob, another feeble pull at the earth, another few inches forward. Their progress was slowly, achingly slow and Harry knew they had to go faster if they wanted to escape what was chasing them. He barred his tear, struggling to see through the tears. _

_ Another pull. Another inch._

_ Another pull. _

_ Another pull._

_ And then the air broke around them. The unnatural stillness of it shattering against him. He might have been screaming. But if he was it was unconsciously done. He couldn't turn. Didn't want to look, couldn't look. But once again the air stirred with the gentle pop-pop of lips as they tried to form words. Shaking Harry twisted his head around to look. _

_ He was screaming in earnest now, scrabbling back, pulling on George's limp body, fat tears rolling down his face. He pushed against the ground with his legs, forgetting why he hadn't used them before. They were broken; he knew that now because pain was shooting through them. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered only that he had to get away. But the pop-pop was getting closer, leaning over him. _

_ A ruined mouth came into his vision. A slash against pale skin, a mash of rotten teeth inside. And it was opening, wider and wider. It was going to swallow him, eat him. _

_ Another pull, another inch._

_ It didn't matter how hard he pulled now, inches weren't enough to keep it away. Inches couldn't put distance between Harry and that gentle pop-pop of lips._

_ Another pull._

_ George's body pushed him down, but he couldn't let go. Crying, and shrieking Harry kept pulling, his fingers wearing down to bloody nubs. _

_ He felt lips on his shoulder, teeth scraping the skin. _

_ And then it bit down._

Harry woke with a gasp. He was still sitting in the room Snape had left him in. His body curled up uncomfortably on the chair. There was a blanket over him, where there hadn't been one before. He supposed Donald had put it there. He seemed like the type. Sighing Harry peeled the blanket off, it was thick with his sweat, as were his clothes. He needed a shower, desperately. He stood with creaking bones, his limbs still heavy with disuse and wished he was back at his flat.

He hated taking showers at other people's homes. There was something so… awkward about it.

He made it to his rooms without problem. And slipped into the bathroom. The water was warm as it slid down his back in rivers. His hands braced against the wall, keeping him up. He looked at them. All his nails were there. So did that mean that it was only a dream? He shuddered with the thought and turned his hand over. There was no sign of his struggle on them, no scars, nothing. He flipped it so it was palm down and for a moment the image of how his hand had been flashed before him.

Nails pulled off, the skin underneath mashed up into what resembled ground beef. Blood covering it, the skin of his palm scraped off, small bits of debris mixed in with the meat of it. He shook the picture of it out of his mind. When he looked again all he saw was his hand. Slightly pink with the heat, and weathered.

He may not want to admit it. But he needed Snape's help.

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><p>Reviews are much appreciated.<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N- Revised Chapter

Harry shuffled his way around the unexpectedly large manor house, one hand trailing the wall, memorizing the path. By the end of the week he would have the entire place mapped out or so help him he would break something. He was at the very end of the hall when he heard the voices. Thinly slipping through a crack in the door and filtering into the empty hallway. Cautiously, Harry slid up to the door and peered inside.

They were all there, besides Donald, sitting in a small semi-circle. George was hunched over by the fire place, head in his hands. Hermione was perched at the end of an overly stuffed pouf, her fingers studiously ripping a hole in her stockings. Something Harry knew she only did when under extreme stress. Snape was the only one who remained stoic, lounging in a high backed armchair and smoking a pipe. Harry wrinkled his nose at that, wizard medicine or not, intentionally inhaling smoke was just inviting illness. A diminutive coffee table squatted between the three and on it was spread the paper. Harry could only catch a glimpse of a moving picture before Hermione snatched it up and began angrily searching its pages. Clearly not for the first time.

"Oi," He pushed the door open with a nudge of his foot, "What's going on here?" Hermione at least had the decency to look chagrined. She swept up from the pouf and made to a take a step towards him, though something in his face must have stopped her for she simply stood there, awkwardly.

"We were just having a meeting Harry. Something, well something has come up." She was twisting the pages between her palms, pulling and stretching on it until Snape took it from her to prevent any further damage. Harry's eyes flickered between the group, Snape with his noncommittal face, George, who was avoiding Harry's eyes for all he had in him. And Hermione, who was now fidgeting with the sleeve of her blouse and forcing herself to meet his piercing gaze. Though he could tell it took a lot for her to do so.

"And I was not informed because?" Flashes of fifth year spun before his eyes. He forced the memories down; it would do no good to snap in anger now. Instead of yelling, which was so very tempting to him, Harry dropped into a comfortable looking seat and folded his hands on his lap to hide their trembling. "Well it doesn't matter," Only it did, it mattered to him, "What was the meeting about? Not me I hope."

"Don't be so arrogant to presume we'd hold a meeting over _you_, Potter." Snape, who had remained very quiet until then, murmured. Harry refused to rise to the intended barb and simply fixed Hermione with his best 'well get on with it' look and sat back in his chair. His bushy haired friend nodded, swallowing thickly.

"As you know, I have been trying to organize a sort of, protest group against this new law. And with Severus's help it has been going along swimmingly…" She took the paper back from Snape and handed it to Harry, "Well," She gestured to the picture. Splattered over the front page was a black and white of a man, who looked very familiar though the blood covering his face made it hard to determine exactly who he was, laying prone on the ground, his eyes open and glassy. Around him stood four Aurors, grim faced yet satisfied. Harry didn't get the chance to read the headline before Hermione spoke again.

"Oliver Wood." She tapped the picture and Harry took another look.

"It's my fault," George sighed from the spot by the fire, "I knew what was happening, and I knew that Oliver was-was… I should have told him to get out of Britain, go to America or something." Harry gapped, and then shook his head, hair whipping him in the face a little and reminding him that he needed a haircut.

"Of course it's not your fault." Harry said laying his hand on George's arm, Hermione nodded along.

"No, it really isn't, George," She sighed, "As much as I hate to say this, Oliver isn't our biggest worry right now more what he started is." She flipped the article to the next page and read aloud. "The Ministry, who were previously very lenient towards the homosexuals, has had to crack down on the increasingly violent rebels. One case here; that of Mr. Oliver Wood, went sour when Ministry officials requested that he remove an inappropriate poster condoning deviant behavior. In a fit of anger, Mr. Wood fired a hex at Aurors, in the ensuing battle Mr. Wood was struck down and killed." Hermione gently folded the paper on her lap, "It goes on to say that the Aurors did a wonderful job and how the streets will be cleaner now that the Ministry has given them permission to use force when concerning homosexuals. It also sneaks in a little bit about homosexuals being mentally unstable people who could snap at anytime and must be kept under control, for the safety of everyone else." She rubbed the creases in her forehead and breathed in deeply.

"Because of this, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and I have decided it was time to make a real effort and create an official opposition party." Harry nodded at what Snape was saying. It made sense that after this, they would have to take the situation more seriously.

"Was there a reason you did not see to include me in this?"

Snape crossed his arms and stared down his nose at the boy, "I was under the impression, that your good name meant more to you that this _trivial _matter. Or has your fame sniffing nose led you here at the promise of glory?" Harry clenched his hand so tightly that his fingernails cut into the tender meat of his palm, leaving four little half moon abrasions.

"Stop it Severus, Harry's never been a fame seeker and you know it," George's voice broke through the cloud of anger that had settled over Harry, "Beside's the real reason that we didn't call you in for the meeting was that we couldn't find you first and then when we finally did, you were out cold in the library. We couldn't bring ourselves to wake you." Harry shot Snape another poisonous glance before turning away.

"Well," He mumbled, "What's the plan?"

"We were just getting to that when you came in actually." Hermione piped up, she laid a few documents on the small table and pointed out an underlined paragraph. "See here, this is a copy of the original Wizarding Constitution, it states that no witch or wizard, so long as they bear magical ability, shall be persecuted by any other witch and wizard. Now," She pointed to another section, "This is the revised Wizarding Constitution, namely Law 1374, it mandates that all witches or wizards found in the practice of public homosexual perversion, or who have been proved to have imparted said perversion on the impressionable wizarding youth, shall be tried in front of the Wizemgamot and a collection of their peers and upon being guilty shall be sentenced to life in Azkaban or receive the dementor's kiss, depending on the nature of the crime." She looked up from the paperwork and smiled.

"Don't you see? We've found loopholes. The law doesn't give the Ministry the right to sentence homosexuals without a fair trial! Marilynn Cook and Natalie Monson never received a trial. We can build our opposition on that!" She sat back, looking very smug.

"While I may admire you researching skills and your knowledge of the law, I don't believe leading with that would be our best bet." Snape's voice was as silky as ever as he leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and cupping his face with his hands.

"That may very well be our biggest attack; we would be foolish to expose their mistake now, when they may still have time to fix it. We should leave it for last, a giant bomb to drop."

"But if we withhold this information many more could die!" Hermione reasoned.

"And if we bring it to light, all the Ministry has to do is amend the constitution and our argument would be null and void. Believe me Miss Granger; it would be better to wait, to wait until we have a decent backing and the power of the people on our side. Then we would reveal the false prosecutions to cast the finishing blow."

"I agree with Severus." George said into his hands before gazing up, his eyes weary and lined with red. "We should keep this to ourselves for now and hope that no one else discovers it." Harry slowly nodded his agreement. Hermione's eyes darted to all of them before she huffed her defeat and stood from her seat.

"Alright," She grumbled gathering all of her paperwork to her, "I'll have to start an underground meeting, try to get as many trustworthy people and their friends as possible. I'll also need to get some notes together and figure out funding…" Her voice trailed off as she left the room and trotted down the hallway, most likely in search of the library. George stood after her, brushing off invisible dust from his lap and rubbing the backs of his hands across the stubble on his chin.

"Well, I'm off to the lab, we've made a break through with the potion and I always thought that the best way to clear your head was through brewing. Oh by the way Severus, I've been owling Fred and wondered if he could come over for a bit?" Snape nodded, his curtain of hair sliding over his nose as his head bobbed up and down.

"Yes fine,"

"Thanks see you down there then." And with that George ducked out of the doorway and headed off to the basement, effectively leaving Harry alone with the dungeon bat.

"Mr. Potter, I was going to come see you later today," Snape's voice drifted over him, its smoothness was like honey to his ears. Harry found himself unable to concentrate on the words his ex-professor was saying, instead he was lulled into a contented state of relaxation where he found himself entirely captivated by the movement of Snape's fingers as they tugged on a stray button. If he admitted it to himself, Harry would say that he had always been fascinated with the potions master's fingers. They were long and slender, pale but with calluses running along the tips from hours of holding a ladle or chopping up ingredients. Beautiful fingers, much like Malfoy's though were the aristocrat's were entirely blemish free, Snape's showed the effects of hard labor. There was even a small ink stain on his right pinky.

"Mr. Potter!" The sharpness of the voice brought Harry blinking, back to reality.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said; stop mooning over my fingers and pay attention! Now, are you or are you not up to legilimency? I would like to discover exactly what someone went all the trouble through to hide." Snape was staring at him, his black eyes hooded and as piercing as ever. Harry found himself looking away rather than facing the depth of that stare.

"Yes, yes I'm ready. I'm fine." He didn't even hear Snape whisper the spell before he was going under.

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><p>Finding the way back was always easier than finding it in the first place. It took Severus no longer than ten seconds to find the pinpoint of hidden memories and gently begin the process of undoing it. His mind pulled and stretched at it until slowly, it grew and grew into a space wide enough to fit a door. He stopped there, not wanting to strain the already delicate section of Potters mind.<p>

It was the same scene as before, only this time he could see the shadow of what was chasing them. It moved so quickly that Severus couldn't get a very accurate picture. Though it seemed to be human shaped, only broken. Twisted. As though whoever it had been had been thrown off the top of a building and then haphazardly put back together again. It flashed over his mind, flitting about along the edges on his vision, moving every time he tried to look directly at it. Irritated Severus cast out the edge of his mind and gently grazed the surface of the memory, hoping to freeze the frame in time so that he could study it closer.

He didn't warrant on the memory sucking him in.

Something was eating at his arm, or maybe it was his back. There was so much pain he couldn't quite tell the difference anymore. The only anchor he had was a hand, crushed within his grip. It was burning up, this hand. And he didn't know why but he knew that he had to cool it down, had to keep it from fading. Something else was ripping at him now, tugging from within, pulling at the core of his life and pushing its way into that burning hand. Meanwhile the chewing never stopped. Jagged teeth scissoring through skin and tendon and slurping up what they found within. Cutting bloody strips of muscle and crunching on bone.

He was being devoured, and all he could hear was the gnashing of teeth and tearing of flesh, the snapping of bone. And one other noise… A choking, bubbling noise. The sound someone would make before vomiting, the gentle gurgling that warns everyone of what was coming.

It took him a long time to realize that he was making the noise.

It seemed to go on for hours, the eating. But he couldn't let go.

He couldn't remember why, he only knew that he couldn't.

It had something to do with that hand he was holding onto. The one that needed his magic so desperately. He couldn't remain much longer, no. Already his grip was weakening, his magic failing. But those sucking lips and chomping jaws never tired. They were always on him, consuming him.

And then they were gone. Yanked from him.

"Tsk, tsk Mr. Potter. You should know better than to play with strangers."

He gasped, eyes flying open.

Potter. That was his name, Harry Potter. And the memories came rushing back. It was George that he was holding on to. George who needed his magic. He tried to roll over, to see. But the pain tore through him, leaving him shaking and huddled on the ground.

"Please." He whispered, the words scouring his throat as they forced their way past his lips. "Please."

"Please what Mr. Potter. I am afraid I can't help you if I don't know what it is you want."

"Please…"

The voice huffed and kicked him over, eliciting a scream from the boy who lived. "You aren't playing nice Mr. Potter. First you steal this man from me," He gestured to George, who wasn't breathing, "And now you have the audacity to play against my rules? I should have let her eat you."

_Her?_ Harry tried to focus on the figure standing over him, but all that filtered through was a shadow. A shadow with the emptiest brown eyes he had ever seen. Nothing living had those eyes.

Blood bubbled from his mouth as he tried to form a response.

"No, no Mr. Potter, don't bother now, I'm already bored with you." Suddenly the voice was very close to him, Harry could feel the outline of lips and teeth as it spoke against his ear.

"But I still need you. You are still useful. Go to sleep for now," Harry felt something slick slide over his head and down his body, his mind became fuzzier and finally drifted off to sleep.

"Sweetdreams, Mr. Potter."

* * *

><p>Severus started out of his chair and knocked over the little table in the process. His heart was racing, thudding against his chest. It had felt so real. He had felt the pain, the hopelessness. That shouldn't have happened. He should have simply frozen the memory, not been dragged down into it. His nostrils flared as he tried to tame his breathing. Harry looked no better as he slumped in the chair across from him.<p>

"What-" Harry began, but Severus cut him off.

"Your mind has been trapped. I was lucky that the particular trap I set off was only designed to pull the viewer into the memory, to have them relive it. I'll have to tread far more carefully then I had previously thought."

"Does that mean you'll have to be in my mind more often?" Harry asked narrowing his eyes.

Severus rolled his eyes, "Of all the things you'd be anxious about, but yes, Potter, I'll have to go into your mind more than I originally planned for. Trust me; this will be fun for neither of us." Harry sat for another moment before sweeping up from his chair and leaving without a word. Severus sighed through his nose and collapsed into his armchair.

This required brandy. The pain flashed before him again. And memory of his flesh being literally eaten from his bones ghosted over his body.

Fuck it.

This required absinthe, and an entire carton of cigarettes.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N- It's been awhile, though I suppose that's what happens when you leave all the hardest classes for last and then have to take them all in the same semester. Leaves very little time for hobbies and writing. This a slower chapter, be prepared for some real action against the anti-gay law next chapter. Enjoy.

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><p>"I still don't see I have to stay here. Won't it be more suspicious if I <em>don't<em> go out in the public?"

"Feeling withdrawal now that you don't have people begging for your autograph?" Snape sneered, stirring a brilliant green potion counterclockwise. Harry glared, and sipped at his Pepper-Up potion. They had just finished another dive into his mind, though this one hadn't turned up any results. But it had left them both drained. Ever since Snape had dug up that memory, or at least they thought it was a memory, it was all he could think about. He remembered it as though it had only just happened, the teeth buried in his flesh and those empty brown eyes. But he had faced worse in his fight against Voldemort. And so had Snape, which was why Harry couldn't understand why the man flinched away from his presence and shuddered unconsciously whenever they were eating meat.

"All I mean is that while I haven't been the most sociable person over the last few years, I did go out. My sudden disappearance along with George being rescued from Azkaban will only help people connect the dots. And then what will my name do to help you." He finished off the last of his potion and turned to face the bat directly.

"What _astounding _leaps of logic you've made Potter. However, whoever did that to you is already aware of you, they are not aware of me and for the moment you staying here, _out of harm's way_, is the most beneficial thing you could do. Have I made myself clear?" His black eyes drilled into him until Harry had no choice but to relent.

"Fine, I'll stay here for now. But I'm having Hermione pick up my cat. I'll not have him neglected simply because you want me _out of harm's way_." Snape frowned but said nothing, only dropped some mint leaves into the now gently bubbling potion and turned his back. Harry took that as a dismissal and plodded up the stairs. He was halfway through the kitchen when he ran into Donald. The man had been a veritable recluse for the last few days, and yet here he was, pushing the door open with his back and carrying something heavy to the table.

"Oh, let me help you with that." Harry said jumping forward and taking most of the load from the other man's arms. It was heavier than expected whatever it was. Together they made it to the table, Donald huffed a breath of relief.

"Thanks Harry," He said, flashing him a bright smile, "I wasn't sure I would make it." He peeled back a layer of brown paper and examined the contents, "Good, nothing damaged." Donald gave Harry another smile and stepped back gesturing to the package. Green eyes peered over the edge and immediately turned to look back at Donald.

"They're flowers." He gave them another glance. They had pure white petals, the only other color were flecks of midnight blue near the bottom that pooled into an even darker blue towards the middle. The stems were golden and glittered. Donald laughed, the sound full and happy.

"Yes, it's they're _Fleur de Mort_, death flowers, first discovered in France about three hundred years ago. Very important in a potion I am experimenting with." He nodded and leaned over to examine his flowers again seeming even more satisfied of their authenticity than the first time he checked them.

"Why are they so heavy?" Harry asked, trying to see if anything about them could attribute to their weight. He saw nothing.

"No one really knows," The potions master shrugged, "Some say that it is their ability to kill instantly that just gives them a psychological weight, not a physical one."

"So, they think because we as humans know that they're capable of killing, our minds force us to perceive them as unnaturally heavy?"

"Yes, though that is only one theory."

"Couldn't you just weigh them?" Harry winced immediately after the question left his mouth. Of course they had weighed them they were bloody potions masters after all. But Donald didn't ridicule him the way he had expected, instead he explained.

"They've been weighed, though on a scale they are hardly heavier than a feather. But when given to a child, who has no real knowledge of death or of what the flower can do, it is still just as heavy. So, we may never know the answer. But it's great in potions." Donald winked at him and busied himself by wrapping the flowers individually in small scraps of paper.

"Harry! Harry have you seen my-" Hermione barged into the room, dressed in yellow dress robes and holding one flimsy looking shoe in her hand. She pulled up short upon eyeing Donald however and fixed him with a piercing glare, "What's going on here?"

"Donald was showing me some death flowers; I helped him carry them to the table." Harry shrugged. He had no idea why Hermione hated Donald. Even George liked him. But whenever the two were in a room tension was thick and glares were never on short supply.

"Oh really." Her voice was flat as she continued to stare Donald down. She didn't turn from him when she addressed Harry, "I was going to ask if you had seen my other shoe. I set it out earlier, now I can't find it and I need it for the Ministry thing I'm going to tonight." She cast a quick _tempus _charm, "And I'm already late. Oh whatever I'll just use a different pair." She finally dragged her eyes from Donald, and shot Harry a quick smile, "See you." She practically ran out of the kitchen.

Donald cast Harry a glance, "I hope she has a good time." He smiled and Harry found himself shivering at its sharpness.

"Thank you again for your help Harry." He gave him another odd smile before disappearing down a hallway, carrying the flowers in his arms.

He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but Harry thought they seemed much lighter than before.

* * *

><p>It was just his luck that he had been conned once again into attending a social function. How Pansy managed to twist the situation in her favor was utterly and completely beyond him. And now here he was, stuck at a Ministry gathering, one at which Peterson no doubt lurked ready to pounce on him. A horrendous sigh made its way from deep within his chest, he didn't even have the pleasure of stimulating conversation as Granger had yet to arrive and Pansy was too busy making an ass of herself over the Minister. He was ashamed just by watching her flirting. No one else was even worth the effort of chit-chat; they were all dull, witless flobberworms. It was because of this lack of suitable contact that Draco had pasted himself into a corner partially blocked off by a plant and deliciously near to a window. Such distance from the crowd would surely have his mother rolling in her grave; oh how he was ruining the Malfoy's hard earned reputation of being successful socialites.<p>

"Ah, there you are. See, I told you he'd be around here." Draco Malfoy never thought the day would come where he would feel such profound relive at the sound of know-it-all Granger's voice. She was bending around the side of the plant, her frizzy mane blocking out all light and looming closer to his face. Another head popped up beside her, this one resembling very much the look of his Italian mate. Only different somehow.

"Ah yes dear, should have known you'd be right." Oh yes, Draco remembered now, he was pussy-whipped. That was what was different. Granger had decimated his manhood. He rolled his eyes, conscious of the way it made his nose scrunch up and edged his way around the plant.

"Yes, _dear_ of course you were right. Where have you been, I was contemplating Avada-ing myself in your absence." He glared slightly and turned to watch Pansy as she simpered at Minister Goode. Granger snorted the sound unpleasant and knocked her shoulder against his. This of course forced Draco to wonder when they had come to such intimate terms. Intimate enough for such playful, _physical_ contact.

"Don't be so dramatic Malfoy. Your ego wouldn't let you deprive others of your company. If you were dead, who would be able listen to you?" She smiled and turned to Blaise who was absently poking at one of the plant's leaves. "Would you mind going to get some punch?" He didn't so much as nod his consent before running off to fetch her drink. Draco looked on at him with disgust.

"Granger, what have you done to poor Blaise? He is absolutely _subservient_." Granger turned to watch as her date scurried through the crowd and shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, I don't think so; I think he's just trying to impress me." Draco gave her a quick once over, taking in the pale yellow robes and her curly mass of hair.

"You don't seem very hard to impress." She snorted, the expression lighting up her face as she shot him a look that crossed between amusement and bewilderment.

"You're doing a lot of snorting tonight Granger, are you part pig or something?" He sneered at her and she stuck out her tongue. Draco had to resist the urge to clutch at his heart, had she really just stuck out her tongue at him? He jotted it down to muggle culture and their natural inferiority. Blaise, when he looked, was still making his way to the refreshment table, gently moving people out of the way and slipping in-between the spaces people left. The old Blaise would have bulled right through demanding attention and respect.

"Perhaps I should telling him how undignified he looks, running around at your beck and call. It would be very altruistic of me." Granger opened her mouth to answer but was cut-off when Pansy slid to her side, looping her arm through hers.

"Hermione! So good to see you, I was afraid you wouldn't come, seeing as the whole situation with Potter has become so very interesting."

"It really has. Snape is trying to figure out whether or not what he saw was real or some kind of induced dream. You know, something planted there by whomever or whatever attacked him." Pansy smiled, flicking a strand of horribly straight hair over her shoulder. She had flattened it to the point where it looked as though it could cut her. Draco grimaced, he preferred more natural women.

"Oh hello, Pansy." Blaise had returned three glasses of punch cradled precariously in his hands, "If I had known you were going to join us I would have brought another cup." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly as he passed the beverages around. Pansy waved him off.

"I don't drink Ministry party drinks. Do you have any idea how much _sugar_ is in them. How many _calories_? I have a figure to watch." Granger raised her brow at that and Draco found himself agreeing with her. Pansy was slim bordering on boney. If she watched her figure anymore soon there wouldn't _be_ a figure to watch. Not that she really had much of one anyway. Without meaning to, Draco compared the two women to each other. Where Pansy was all angles and points, Granger was fleshy; her hips wider than her waist, though not by much, rounded shoulders and curved thighs. Her stomach was flat but for the lower part which puffed out just a bit. Her face was fuller than Pansy's as well, and more natural, as his childhood friend had practically every kind of cosmetic charms worked on her. If Granger wasn't so bloody annoying he could see himself being attracted to her as she just radiated female.

"That seems a bit silly Pans." Granger said shooting her a sidelong glance.

"Looking good is not silly Hermione." Draco wanted to tell her that she didn't look good in that dress that clung to her rail thin body. Sure she was beautiful and many men would love her exactly the way she was, but her viciously protruding hipbones were simply pushing things a little too far in his opinion. "Anyway, I've just come from speaking with Minister Goode; which is the reason I came to talk to you, Hermione. He was asking a lot about you and Potter. Wanting to know what it was you do during your free time, how you and Potter get along. And a few questions about the Weasel. At first I thought it was because he might fancy you, but that just seemed to farfetched, I think he knows something about what happened and is trying to figure out how much you know." She twisted a strand of hair between her fingers.

Hermione frowned, the action puckering the lines of her forehead, "I'll have to be careful then." She didn't turn to look at the Minister like how many others would have and Draco silently applauded her for it. In fact he would have complimented her aloud were it not for one thing.

"Hermione?"

* * *

><p>The knot in her stomach that had formed when Pansy told her of her suspicions promptly doubled in size. Of course, it was a Ministry function after all. How could she have forgotten that that would mean <em>he<em> would be there as well? She turned slowly on her heel, hating herself for how much that voice could affect her still.

He hadn't changed; his blue eyes still showed his every emotion, his freckles still stood out on his pale face. And his hair was as red and blazing as ever.

"Ronald." She tried to make her tone as icy and hard as Malfoy did when he spoke with Peterson. The way Ron's eyes flashed with hope told her she hadn't quite managed it.

"What are you doing with all these…_Slytherins_?" His eyes narrowed and Hermione knew he was thinking she needed rescuing. He took a step forward but was intercepted by Blaise who inserted himself so smoothly and naturally in between Ron and her that one would think he had spent his whole life protecting her. Malfoy joined him a moment later, leaving only a small square of space for Hermione to see through. While she appreciated the gesture it made things harder.

"They're my friends, Ronald. And Blaise is my…" She trailed off. She wasn't exactly sure what Blaise was, they were relatively undefined as of now.

"I am her boyfriend." Ron's face went immediately purple and his grip on his wand tightened until it was letting out ominous creaks.

"What!" His yell drew the attention of the people nearest them. For a moment it looked like he would charge but Malfoy stepped in.

"Yes, Weasel, you heard correctly, the know-it-all bookworm and my best friend are together, and since he is clearly your superior I suggest you wander off now." Ron opened his mouth, ears turning fire engine red with his anger.

"Ronald, stop." This time her voice had the bite to it that she had wanted before. "Just stop. My love life is none of your concern any longer; you lost that when you sold your brother to death." He had the decency to go pale, as if he regretted his actions, which Hermione thought he was, "Now please, stop making such a scene."

He stared at her for long moments, his eyes scanning her face, so many emotions running through them that she couldn't possibly read them all. But there were a few that stood out to her, rage, humiliation, misery. But above all, determination. And it was that emotion which frightened her the most.

"I'll win you back." He squared his shoulders and straightened from his hunched battle position, "You hear that Hermione? I'll win you back." He turned finally; satisfied that he had made an impression. And he had, Hermione could only imagine the ways that he would torment her now, all in hopes of gaining her affections once again. Just the thought made her weary. Blaise squeezed her arm once but otherwise said nothing to reassure her and Pansy tittered about in frustration.

She supposed it was only because she was so close that she heard it. So quiet it could just as easily been a figment of her imagination. But has she was turning to leave she could have sworn she heard Malfoy's voice and words which reassured her more than any arm squeeze could.

"Over my dead body."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N- Sorry I've been gone such a long time! Also, raineynight brought it to my attention that I had previously killed off lee Jordan, see what happens when I don't keep up with my stories? So I killed Oliver Wood instead. Sorry for anyone who happened to notice that

* * *

><p>Hermione opened the door to Snape's house, careful to make as little noise as possible. The rest of the Ministry function had been boring as usual, but for Thomas Burton bumping into the Minister and spilling an entire goblet of punch over his robes. She hung her coat in the hallway and put down the carrying case which held Harry's cat, Tigger, whom she had picked up on the way back. He went about exploring the new rooms the second she had the latch to the door undone. Smiling, Hermione made her way to the kitchen, where Snape was usually to be found at this hour. They had to talk about the rally they had put together. It was tomorrow, after all.<p>

"Snape, I-" Her voice faltered as she found not Snape, but Donald sitting patiently at the table there. An untouched cup of green tea settled in front of him… almost as though he had been waiting specifically for her arrival. He stood in one fluid motion and used his height to tower over her.

"Hello, Miss Granger. Severus is in the lab at the moment. But you are welcome to come and have a cup of tea with me, if you like." It didn't sound like an invitation, it was an order. One which Hermione cautiously obeyed. Donald's grin widened until it stretched an obscene amount. It cracked his face in half, rendering him almost unrecognizable.

"Let me get you a cup of tea, Miss Granger." He moved about, yanking a china cup from its place on the shelves and unceremoniously filling it with tea from the pot. Some of it splashed over the side, glittering an odd translucent blue in the light. He set it in front of her, casting a strong warming charm, before returning to his seat and fixing a blank smile at Hermione. Slowly, wary even now, she wrapped her hands around the smooth surface of the cup.

"Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about? I know Snape hasn't divulged any specifics regarding the upcoming rally to you. But if you would like to help in some other, out of the way, manner, I am sure it can be arranged." She felt a superior, vicious sort of pleasure when Donald flinched at her mentioning the lack of trust Snape had for him. She leaned forward, still clutching the tea between her hands.

"Of course not, Miss Granger-"

"Oh please, call me Hermione. We'll be in close enough contact that we'll have nothing to lose in a bit of casualty." Donald gave her another toothy smile.

"But why should I? Do you not still call Severus by his last name? And surely the two of you have been in much more intimate contact than you and I." Hermione chuckled and felt the tension rise another notch.

"In its own way, calling him Snape may be more affectionate then calling him Severus. Don't you think? Besides, there is still an air of student-teacher authority surrounding our relationship that I'm not sure even years of association could dissipate. But why don't we get to the reason you asked for my company, instead of twiddling about with silly pleasantries." Donald gave her a mocking bow of the head.

"Not one for polite conversation I see, not very hospitable of you. You haven't even touched your tea." Hermione pulled the cup a little closer; eyeing its contents again.

"I'm just waiting for it to cool off."

"It's cool enough. Don't you think?" Another murky smile split his face as he leaned forward, scooting his chair up by an imperceptible amount. He looked like a giant cat stalking its prey, his eyes occasionally flickering to the tea in front of her.

"Why is it you're talking to me, Donald?" The man leaned forward, reaching his arm across the table. Hermione skittered back, the chair scraping across the oak floors. Donald winced at the noise.

"Now you've done it." He hissed his voice grating over her ears. Stomping feet followed his statement and before Hermione knew what was happening there was Snape, looming in the doorway.

"Didn't I tell you I was working on a very delicate potion, and that I couldn't afford even the _slightest _distraction? What were you doing up here? Rearranging my furniture?" His nostrils flapped with the forced of his breathing, and his black eyes locked onto Donald.

"Of course not Sev," The American simpered, hunching a little to make himself appear smaller, "It was an accident that's all." His voice took on the oily nuance it always did when he addressed Snape. The sound of it felt like a knife flaying her skin. She shuddered with the thought of it.

Snape practically snorted he breathed in so hard, "Fine. Since my potion is _ruined_ anyway, I need to speak with Miss Granger. Get out." Donald scuttled out the door like one of those little black beetles you hate to find in your home. He shot one last hate filled look at Hermione over his shoulder before he turned the corner and disappeared.

Snape pasted a sour look on his face and gestured for Hermione to sit, "Mind explaining why there was so much _noise_?" He practically collapsed into the chair across from her and folded his hands in front of him.

"It was nothing. Just a… misunderstanding. What we really need to discuss is the rally tomorrow." She sat, idly playing with the handle of her tea cup.

"Yes," Snape frowned, "Firstly, the accommodations, I know you said Number 12 Grimmauld Place would be sufficient in terms of size and location. But I think the fact that it was used as the Order headquarters and that you ex-boyfriend is aware of its location and… obviously aware of your position concerning homosexual rights, it may not be the safest place to hold it." Hermione furrowed her brows.

"Yes but, it's so last minute. I mean, we'd have to contact everyone by tomorrow, I'm not sure that we can reach everyone, and if we can't then we'll have several witches and wizards showing up to Grimmauld Place with no one there."

"Yes, but we_ will _reach them all, seeing as there aren't too many people in attendance anyway. Besides, there is the added benefit of there being no time for people to gossip and bring the Ministry down around our ears."

Sighing Hermione leaned back in her chair, "Well where else would you have us do it?"

"I know a man. He'll lend us the basement, more than enough to fit our needs. He owns a little shop in Diagon Alley, Hugo's Fine Elvin Wines." That made Hermione smile; she had been inside the store on more than one occasion. She had a taste for wine.

"Alright. Well since that's settled. Content. I know we should remain as goal oriented as possible. Deliver our end game with as little pomp and circumstance as needed."

"A speech like that might sway you Miss Granger, with your logic and intelligence. But the average witch and wizard won't be moved into action with bare facts delivered in an impersonal manner. The first speech should be motivational. They should feel as though you know _exactly _what they're going through. It should be filled with passion and fire. You aren't fighting for house elf rights now Miss Granger, you are fighting for oppressed people. In their entire empathetic and angry splendor."

"Then I'm sorry, I don't think I am the right candidate to deliver such a speech."

"And neither am I. I lack the charisma necessary. Were it only a manner of scaring the crowd into submission then I could. But this, this requires someone likable."

Hermione nodded, "George might be able to pull it off. I'll ask him tomorrow." She rubbed a hand over her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. The tea still sat in front of her, cold now. It was dark, black tea, no cream had been added. She hadn't looked at it before; it was a beautiful spicy brown color. Something you might find in the living room of a fine home. It smelled of cinnamon and peach.

"Severus?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Would you running some tests on this? See if there was anything in it?" She screwed up her face before handing the cup to the Potions Master, "It's only, when he was pouring it, it was such a different color."

"I'll see what I can find. As for now, it's late Miss Granger. Go home."

* * *

><p>Harry awoke to find Tigger at the foot of his bed, glaring and flicking his tail back and forth. He started meowing pitifully the moment Harry's eyes cracked open.<p>

"Alright, alright." He muttered, pulling himself from the warm sheets. He found his way to the kitchen, naked feet slapping harshly against the ground and a hungry cat trailing him. It had been a rough night, nightmare filled with sharp teeth and brown eyes kept him up nearly half the night then someone shuffling around outside his door kept him up the rest. Yawning he pushed the door of the kitchen open and was greeted with George brewing a deep blue potion at the table.

"I was going to eat there you know." Harry chided, maneuvering his way around the Weasley twin. George smiled but didn't look up. "What is it you're brewing?"

"Ah… it's sort of an identification potion. It separates the different ingredients used in a potion. It's easier than trying to figure them each out individually if you don't know what something is. Or if there even is something." Harry frowned and peeked once more at contents of the cauldron.

"What would you need that for?"

"Um, Hermione asked Severus to see if there was anything in the tea Donald gave her. Apparently he was very pushy about her drinking it. And something about a color change, but quite honestly I wasn't entirely listening." He added some frog eyes to the brew and smiled as it fizzed and turned a luminescent blue. He scooped out a ladleful and placed it into a bowl he had standing next to him.

"All finished."

"Wait. Hermione thinks Donald what? Poisoned her tea? _Donald_? That's ridiculous. He wouldn't do something like that." He felt Tigger rubbing against his leg, desperate for breakfast, and gently kicked him out of the way.

George shrugged, "I know. That's what I thought. But I think our Mione is just itching to find something off about him aye, doesn't seem to like him much. Weird it is. He's such a sweet man." He gave another shrug and took a vial from his robe pocket. It was filled with tea that smelled delicious when he uncorked it.

"So why are you making the potion instead of Snape?"

"He didn't have the time. He and Hermione went off to the rally. The moved it wanted to be there early or something. Anyway, he asked me to do it and so I am. Bloody happy it doesn't take too long though. Fred is coming over later and I would hate to spend our time with me brewing and him lazing around." He poured the contents of the phial into the bowl and picked up a quill and parchment. Harry left him to it and called a house elf so that he could go about getting some food for his cat. One popped into existence not seconds after he had called for it.

"Master's guest be needing assistance?" It squeaked out, eyes large and eager.

"Yes, if you could maybe chop up a bit of liver, if you have it, very fine. My cat needs some breakfast and Hermione forgot to bring over his food." The little creature squealed and vanished leaving Harry to roll his eyes at the mini theatrics. "Would you like some tea George?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." The man replied absently. He was perched on a stool in front of the bowl, hunched over his parchment and madly scribbling the results. It must have made sense to George because all it looked like to Harry was different shaped wisps of smoke rising from the potion. Ignoring that particular corner of the kitchen, Harry rummaged around the cabinets until he found some mugs and a few shelves over, dozens of different tea selections.

He chose a simple earl grey, something familiar and comforting and for George, something called spring time cherry delight. He put on some water and while that was boiling fixed their cups. The house elf appeared moments later with a small glass bowl filled with liver.

"Thanks." Harry smiled taking it from her. He made a couple tsk-ing noises and Tigger came shooting from under the table. "Mmm, fresh liver. Yum." He placed it on the floor and chuckled as his pet proceeded to swallow everything without chewing.

"Act like I starve you or something." Harry muttered turning back to the stove. George's gasp stopped him short.

"What is it?" Harry padded over snatching the parchment from Georges hands. The list of ingredients made no sense to him. He quirked an eyebrow at George, a wordless invitation for him to explain.

"There's only one potion you can make out of those materials…" George shuddered and glanced around as though he were fearful Donald was watching them. He beckoned Harry forwards and whispered into his ear. The color drained from Harry's face and he leaned back staring wide eyed at the potions list.

The tea kettle began shrieking behind them, though neither made a move to get it.

"We have to tell Snape."

* * *

><p>"It's quite a turn out Miss Granger, you've done well." Hermione flushed with the compliment, socked that the words of an ex-professor could still affect her still.<p>

"Yes, I think it's great for a beginning, if we make a good enough impression on the people here, then perhaps they will spread the word. We might have a full blown Order on our hands soon." She surveyed the crowd, a wash of faces all eager to hear what was going to be said. All desperate for something to be down. They couldn't let them down.

"Are you sure Mr. Jordan will be able to make the kind of speech we need?" Snape asked eyeing their candidate with distaste. George hadn't been able to come after Snape set him on brewing a potion. So Hermione suggested Lee Jordan.

"Oh yes, quite. Don't you remember him announcing the Quidditch games back at Hogwarts? He's very charismatic, though he's not homosexual." Snape gave a noncommittal grunt in reply and turned to walk towards the stage, beckoning Hermione to follow him.

Lee was already there, and held out his hand for Snape to shake when they reached him.

"Professor Snape. Long time no see eh? Though I shouldn't call you Professor anymore, quit teaching a couple years back didn't you?" It wasn't really a question and Snape didn't answer. Only deepened his glare further and turned to face the crowd. Hermione sighed rolling her eyes and then shot a quick smile at Lee.

"We can start whenever you're ready. Everyone is here now." She laid a hand on his arm briefly before going to join Snape. Lee smiled and cast a Sonorous charm before facing the audience.

"Witches and wizards of Britain," His voice boomed throughout the small space, "We have asked you here today, in order to address a startling and violent new trend emerging among certain members of our society. That of the persecution of homosexual peoples! That of the barbaric and ancient law that states only heterosexual witches and wizards are worthy of life and magic. We are here today, ladies and gentlemen, to start the beginnings of a rebellion that will put an end to such discrimination, a rebellion to change the way of thinking that has so dominated our culture since it was first born! Enough is enough, for too long have you been oppressed, for too long have you been forced to hide away, wary of anyone finding out your secret. The secret of love, which should never have been forced to hide its face. Love that should be flaunted and celebrated and cherished just as much as the love between a man and a woman!" The crowd cheered its response.

"What we are attempting to do, is change the belief of an entire nation. It will not be easy. Never think that it will be easy. You will face resistance on all fronts. You will be fought, and beaten and struck against each step of the way… But you must not give up. You cannot stop the battle now and wait once more for someone else to fix this problem. For someone else to stand up and do this for you. Your time is now. And people… people sympathetic to this case, straight witches and wizards, some may say wait. Some may say that you are not ready now. That the world is not ready now. But they have not faced the same endless tyranny that you have! They have not felt the consequences of the Ministry's fear. They have not lived your lives, your lies that you must present to the outside world! They cannot understand why you cannot wait, you have waited enough! Years of waiting, whole lives lived out in patience for the day that things will change. The day that they too may hold their partners hand in the eyes of the public and not be scorned, not be abused, but to be celebrated!" The force of the peoples screams can so loud now that Hermione felt herself being pushed back into her seat. She never imagined that Lee would have this strong of an effect.

"I must be honest with you now. What is being proposed will not come without its fair share of danger. When we begin, when we push out into the public and make ourselves known… the Ministry will not lie down and do as we ask. There will be violence. As much as I wish this could be done peacefully, we must understand the realities of this fight. As for the moment, the wizarding world sees you are less than a person. An animal. They have hunted you, and murdered you without hesitation. This will not stop being true when we emerge. There will be casualties. And sacrifices will have to be made. But your time is now. Will you stand with me?"

If Hermione had thought that things had been loud before, she was in no way prepared for the reaction that came now. There were no words, only a roar that grew in strength and volume even as she listened to it. People were stamping their feet and slamming the walls. It was unbelievable and beautiful. And at the same time, it was frightening, the group mentality, the anger and hurt of all these witches and wizards pooled together for one cause. They could be the beginning of a new age, or the end of this one.

"Snape…" She glanced over at him. His face was hard. But his eyes blazed with excitement and determination. He turned his face towards her and smiled.

"Miss Granger. I believe you have started a revolution."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N- I finally updated, I'll try to get another chapter out in a few days but no promises. Prepare for some Snape/Harry relationship building in the next chapter!

* * *

><p>Hermione and Snape returned to the manor, still high off the success of their first assembly. There blood buzzing with adrenaline. After Lee's speech Hermione had taken to the stage and outlined their first "strike" against the Ministry. It was just an underground radio show, the same as what had been done during the war. It wasn't much, but it was a sure fire way to get the word spreading, not only far, but also to the right ears. It had all gone over smoothly and she and a man named Martin Freud were meeting the next day to set everything up. Smiling she hung up her coat and wandered into the kitchen to see if Harry and George were somewhere about.<p>

"Oh, hi Fred, how is everyone doing?" The three men were huddled around the kitchen table. Harry with his hands running harshly through his once again shaggy hair, Fred rocking back and forth; his chair balanced on its hind legs. And George clutching at a bit of parchment muttering obscenities to himself. When she addressed them all their heads popped up, reminding her of the meerkats she used to watch on the television when she was young.

"What?" She asked cocking her head slightly to the side, her frown puckering the skin on her forehead.

"Yes, what?" Snape's voice came from directly behind her, momentarily startling her. It was uncanny the way he could sneak up on a person. George shook his head and handed the parchment he had been fiddling with to Hermione. Her brown eyes flicked quickly over the list of ingredients written on the page and then gasped as she realized what they became when mixed together. She heard Snape growl behind her. His velvet voice low and harsh.

"This was what was in my tea?" Harry nodded solemnly, "Well… good thing I didn't drink it." It seemed like a hopelessly obvious thing to say, but no one seemed to notice.

"They think he's been slipping a little bit to everyone," Fred said nodding towards Harry and his twin, "Of course Snape, you probably got the worst of it, seeing as you've lived with him for so long. And that's the type of potion your body becomes acclimated with quickly so who knows how high a dose he's got you on."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see how the potions master was taking the news. Where she had expected to see anger, sadness even she saw only a resigned sort of acceptance. As though he had suspected for a long time, but never had the proof. It made her unbearably sad to see him so hurt.

"Severus?" It was George, "He was gone all today, left a note about needing more potion supplies. But he should be back soon. What do we do?" The older man said nothing only shuffled to a chair and sank down as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. He seemed to have aged fifty years.

"Snape?" Hermione ventured, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. He didn't respond, so she knew it was best to leave him for the moment. "I think he's in shock. He'll come to in a bit I'm sure. As for Donald, I don't… know what to do. No punishment I can think of seems to be severe enough."

George grunted, "I just can't believe he would, could do something like this. Though it does explain the death flowers." Harry's head snapped up.

"What do you mean? Why would he need death flowers for that?"

"A potion like this is very sensitive. A regular one wouldn't need them at all. But the longer you're taking it, the more of it you need to maintain the same effect. And after awhile, upping the dosage won't work so you need the death flowers. The potion, it sort of deadens parts of your brain, and makes you easier to manipulate."

"Merlin," Harry muttered, "We have to do something! We can't just let him get away with this."

"And we won't." Snape swept up from his chair and stalked over to the kitchen table.

"I thought you were in shock." George mumbled.

Snape gave him such a depreciating look that the entire room felt uncomfortable, "I was not in shock. I was thinking of ways to make Donald pay. This is no minor offense. This infringes on every right we have, and it debased our privacy and our free will. It can only be met with equal force. For all the years I was given this potion he shall be given one of my own design. It will achieve almost the same effect, but naturally in a far more painful way." Harry immediately shook his head.

"No. Then we'll be just like him. And from what I can tell that is a dark potion. I won't allow you to use more dark magic just to get even with him."

"Oh, you won't _allow_ it will you? Is that what you think _Potter_? You forget that it is only by my kindness that you survived at all. That it is within _my _manor that you stay. And you think that you can disallow me something? It wasn't you who was under this potion for unknown years!" Snape had gotten very close during this speech and was now pressed up against Harry.

"We'll find another way Snape. But we'll not sink to his level." The potions master's nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed to mere slits. Harry had the terrible feeling that they were about to come to blows in an entirely muggle way. Snape's wand hand clenched and he brought it up a millimeter.

"Enough." George's voice cut through the two of them and Snape sprang away as though burned. "I agree with Harry. What Donald did… what Donald _is_ doing, is terrible. But to drop to his level would be just as awful. I respect you Severus. But if you do this, I don't know if I could work with you anymore."

Snape seemed to visibly struggle. The corners of his eyes bulged and his mouth was twitching. A glance at his hands showed that they shook as well.

"Fine," He finally bit out, cutting the word off before it even fully left his mouth, "Fine, but if he tries to escape, if I even think he's about to try and escape then I will deal with him my way. Are we clear?" The group nodded. "Good." He turned on his heel and stormed from the room.

"He is going to be hell to deal with for a long time." George remarked.

"Now's really not the time for jokes George," Hermione sighed, "We still need to figure out how we're going to handle the situation."

"I think the best way is just to confront him about it. Why tiptoe around the subject? He's bound to know that we've figured it out, he isn't a stupid man," Hermione snorted, "You know he isn't Mione. So when he comes home, well tie him up or something, force feed him some veritaserum and question him to figure out his motives and anything else he might have done to us." said Harry. George and Hermione frowned, but offered no alternatives.

"So it's settled then."

"I guess it is," Hermione agreed, though she gave him a look that said they'd be having words later, "I suppose I'll go put on some tea while we wait."

* * *

><p>Severus thought he had exercised immense control when he had not immediately begun destroying things in his lab. Not only would it have been a pain to clean up, but he would have been ashamed of it once his temper calmed down. He sat hard in a chair and closed his eyes. The argument with Potter had almost become physical. And he was a wizard for Merlin's sake. Not some pissant little prepubescent muggle. But the boy knew exactly how to press his buttons. And if it hadn't been for the Weasley twin… if it hadn't been for George who knew what would have happened.<p>

Sighing Severus began to put together the ingredients for a pepper-up potion. He had some in stock, but for the upcoming encounter he would need something a little fresher. And more potent.

While he worked his mind buzzed with questions. How had he not seen the signs? Felt the symptoms? He was a decorated potions master, one of the best in the world. And yet he couldn't even tell when he was being slipped a potion. That bothered him perhaps even more than Donald poisoning him in the first place. And hadn't he had his suspicions for a while now? That something was not quite right when he looked at the man?

"Stop thinking Severus," He muttered, tossing in the dried beetle wings and stirring counter-clockwise, "Thinking will get you nowhere, this was not a rational action, and therefore cannot be rationally analyzed." He nodded, that sounded good. Besides, if he thought about it too much, then his anger would return and he would ruin the potion. The man took a few deep calming breaths and returned to the task at hand.

After only an hour the potion was finished. Severus gulped it down straight from the cauldron, not caring about contamination at that point. He'd get rid of the cauldron later.

"Severus!" George's voice called sharply from upstairs and Severus prepared himself to face something he certainly wasn't ready for.

The stairs that led to his private lab seemed infinitely long. Each step weighed down on him until he felt he could barely lift a leg. But he forced himself to move and made it up the stairs with will power alone. In the kitchen, Potter and Fred had Donald tied to a chair, wands trained on him while George and Hermione waited, arms crossed.

"Good, you're here." Hermione nodded, turning towards him, "We thought it best that you start the interrogation." Severus frowned.

"How did you catch him?"

"Jumped him when he came through the door. It was quick. Bastard didn't even see us coming." George smiled, though it was a grim smile.

"Donald," Severus's voice was deceptively sweet, "We have a few questions for you." He reached into his pocket where he always kept his own brand of veritaserum. "You will answer truthfully, whether you like it or not." He waved his wand, and Donald's mouth opened. The man gave him a poisonous look as Severus dribbled three drops of the potion down his throat. Donald's eyes twitched for a moment before the settled over with a milky glaze.

"Is your name Donald Rodgers?" Severus asked.

"Yes." His voice came out hollow and it rattled a little in his throat.

"How long have you been poisoning me?"

"Since the first time we met. Five years ago." Severus breathed in sharply through his nose and clenched his teeth.

"And what was the purpose of this?"

"Too keep you under control. To keep you infatuated."

"Are you working alone?"

Donald seemed to smile involuntarily. "No."

"Who is your master?" Severus practically roared leaning in, placing his hands on either side of the chair.

"Severus…" Hermione twittered behind him. Severus took a few deep breaths before turning towards the girl.

"I am not hurting him Miss Granger. Please, keep your comments to yourself unless they are in some way constructive." Hermione nodded timidly and tried to sink back into the background.

"Now, answer the question Donald. Who is your master?"

"The Umbra. The Shade. He has many names."

"And what is his true name?" Severus growled.

Donald laughed. A horrid, cold sound, "He is the Umbra. He is the Shade."

"What is his name?!"

Donald began to sputter and wheeze, foam leaking from the sides of his mouth. And he shook. Such shaking that the chair rattled against the floor of the kitchen. Severus took several steps back before rage tempted him to ask again.

"What is his name? WHAT IS HIS NAME?!"

"Severus!" George bounded forward, "Can't you see he can't answer? You'll kill him." He grabbed the front of the potions master's robes and shook him until he got his attention. "Look at him Severus, there must be some other factor. An Unbreakable Vow, or something. He won't survive your interrogation if you keep doing this. We need him if we are ever going to find out what his true purpose was for poisoning us all with a desire potion." Severus closed his eyes and breathed for several minutes. The whole room lay silent in wait. Hermione was griping the folds of her sweater, wrinkling the fine material. Potter seemed ready to spring from his spot guarding Donald, his wand trained on their captive, but his eyes fixed on Severus. And Fred was so pale he could be paper, his gaze flickering worriedly between his brother and the rouge potions master. Finally Severus opened his eyes.

"You are right, George. I need to get my emotions under control." His voice had the tinges of embarrassment in it. It was not often that his renowned control slipped. "We will get nothing more from him tonight. Lock him in the spare bedroom. Now!" He barked when the room stayed still. Hermione jumped into action, cutting the ropes that held Donald with a slash of her wand and grabbing one of the man's arms. The other Weasley twin leapt to grab the other arm and the two disappeared through one of the kitchens many doors.

"You know the Cupiditas Potion is addictive, Severus. We'll all be fine. But you, you are going to go through some severe withdrawal." Potter stopped halfway out the door when George started talking.

"I know. I am afraid I'll be little use in the coming months. Someone will have to take care of me in the earlier stages. Miss Granger cannot do it, and you-"

"I can do it." Severus started when he heard Potter's voice. The boy seemed just as surprised as he was, shaking his head a little.

"What?" George and Severus's voice came out together, flooded with the sound of confusion and disbelief.

"I said I can do it." Potter repeated.

"And what makes you think I want you around me in such a vulnerable state?" Severus hissed.

The brat snorted, "What? You think I'm going to molest you or something? Don't flatter yourself Snape, I'm not gay, and if I was, I certainly wouldn't be attracted to you."

"That is not what I meant." Severus sneered. "At a stage of the withdrawal I will experience hallucinations. Something I don't particularly want you there for, in case I happen to say something I should not." Potter shrugged.

"Hermione has her work in the Ministry and George, as much as I know he won't say it, would rather stay working on your stupid potion, instead of losing a month or two. I have nothing to do, so let me do this." His voice was unsure almost a question, and perhaps that was what swayed Severus. Had the boy been confident, cocky he could never allow this. But he seemed nervous, scared even, and that made the decision easier.

"Very well Potter." Potter smiled at him. A genuine smile that lit up his face. And Severus thought it might be worth it just for that.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry did the best he could to control the shaking, going so far as to even hold on to Snape when the force of his trembling rattled his bones. It didn't help, not really, but the comfort he could give did make it more bearable, for the both of them. Harry had moved into Snape's room a little more than four days ago. Everything had been fine at first, each resenting the other and Snape showing no symptoms of withdrawal. But soon after he moved in the vomiting started. Long hours with small breaks in between where they both could catch their breath. Snape had been so weak at that point that Harry had to practically carry him to bed whenever they got to leave the bathroom. He had hated it then. But it was in moments like this, with his old potions professor violently rocking in his grip that he wished for those days back. Or that he had never volunteered for this at all. But he had volunteered, and if anything could be said of Harry Potter it was that he could overcome any odds against him. With that in mind he tightened his hold and started talking in as soothing a voice as he could manage.

"It's almost over Snape. Almost. I can't think of anything else to tell you to make it better, but to say it's almost over." Snape's twitching fingers clutched a little tighter to the front of his shirt. Harry took this to mean that the talking was helping, if only marginally. Sometimes it did, took a little bit of Snape's mind off the present pains.

"This one time, me and Ginny were trying to sneak in some time alone. Before Ron," His voice faltered at the name of his other best friend. They hadn't had contact since that night at the Leaky Cauldron, "Before Ron knew about us. And we had found some secluded corner near the library. Of course, with my luck, Peeves found us almost instantly and dumped some sort of colorful powder over us that stained our skin and made us smell like dragon dung. It wouldn't come off, not with any magic or muggle ideas we could come up with. So we holed ourselves up in the room of requirement until we found a cure. Lemon juice and pepper, in case you were wondering, I've no idea how we figured it out either must have been just a happy coincidence. We never told anyone, partially because we were trying to be incognito with our relationship, and partially out of embarrassment." Harry laughed remembering that night. Ginny had been practically in tears. And then she had been mad at herself for being in tears. It made him sad to think that they were no longer together.

And so it went, with Harry thinking up light, harmless stories and Snape occasionally making a twitch or movement that seemed intentional and encouraged Harry to tell more. Stories of when he first came to Hogwarts, so scared of everything, but somehow knowing it was his place, his home. Stories of the times he got into trouble entirely on his own, without the help of Ron or Hermione. Harmless little stories that somehow turned into more.

"My cousin Dudley was chasing me through the house once while my Aunt and Uncle were away. Well, it certainly happened more than once, but this time was different. I was maybe, nine, ten? Somewhere around there. And Aunt Petunia had shut me up for a lot longer than normal, almost the whole day. So Dudley was chasing me around, taking swipes at my head and shoulders, and I was so hungry that I couldn't keep up the pace for very long. I ended up collapsing after he finally landed a blow. And while I was lying there, I shook too. Kind of like how you are now only less severe. So in a small way, I suppose I can relate to what you're feeling now." He looked down only to find black eyes locked on his. Suddenly Harry felt uncomfortable. The man in his arms was still virtually a stranger and not a well liked one, and he had just revealed something very personal. He shifted, noting that the tremors had subsided enough that he didn't have to hold on quite so tightly anymore. He let go and awkwardly shuffled to the table next to Snape's bed where the potions he needed were kept. Harry selected a bright orange one. He couldn't quite remember what it did; he only knew it had something to do with fixing strained muscles.

He partially propped Snape up on his pillows and poured half the potion down his throat. The man seemed to struggle for a moment but in the end the potion was swallowed and he shuddered in mild relief as it began its work. Content that he had rightly administered the potion, Harry busied himself with preparing the hot compresses that soothed the potions master after his seizures.

"Why were you locked away?" The words came out slow and rough, but loud enough that Harry couldn't pretend not to hear. He turned slowly around, the compress fast forgotten in his hands.

"I don't really know." He shook his head when Snape opened his mouth, "No, it's true. Perhaps I was a burden. I kept to myself, was never truly bad. Not in the way most little boys are. I learned how to be quiet at a young age. So I don't know why exactly." Harry shrugged, "Maybe I just annoyed them." They stared at each other for a few moments before Harry remembered what he was holding and crossed over the bit of space to lay the compress on Snape's chest. He would move it around later, but Snape always said his chest hurt the most after.

"So they locked you in a room?" Harry started when Snape's voice came again and he leveled him with a look.

"A room of sorts, yes." Snape made a small gesture with his hand and Harry sighed.

"It was a cupboard. I partially blame that for the fact that I grew to be so short." He snorted at that. His height had always been a sore spot.

"Potter," Harry grunted in the back of his throat not in the mood for what he started.

"No, I know what you're going to say because everyone says it. And it wasn't abuse. I mean, besides Dudley they never touched me. They never raised a hand to me. So it wasn't abuse."

"And you think physical is the only form of abuse?" The sentence seemed to tire him and Harry immediately jumped on an opportunity to change the subject.

"You're obviously still exhausted from you ordeal Snape I can hear it in your voice, go to sleep." He pulled Snape's blanket over him as the man gave him a nasty glare.

Snape pushed himself up so that he was sitting against the headboard. The action must have drained all his energy but he didn't show it on his face. Not that Harry was surprised by that. The man was always in control. Which must make being so vulnerable all the worse for him.

"I don't think so Potter. Do you really believe that shoving you up in a cupboard, not feeding you all day… that that is not abuse simply because they never hit you? Do you understand how warped that is? Do you understand that what they did, if indeed they did it, was wrong?" Harry snorted.

"If they did it?"

"I think a little bit of disbelief is warranted in this situation don't you?" Harry scowled.

"Not really. If I was going to make up stories, why would I make up something like that?"

"Because you have always been a compulsory attention hound, why should that be any different now?"

"You don't know anything about me Snape, if you think attention is what I want out of life." Harry growled pacing to the other side of the room where his bed was. Of course Snape would think this was just another ploy for attention, _of course_. Why should he think that just because he was caring for him that Snape would be any kinder to him?

It was quiet for a long time before Snape spoke again.

"I'm… sorry." It was nearly a question, "Old prejudices are especially hard to break, I suppose." Harry didn't turn. "Potter… Harry. I truly am sorry. If anyone knows that the acknowledgment or lack thereof, of abuse can manifest in different ways, it's me. I shouldn't have let my dislike for you change that."

"It's fine. I shouldn't have expected anything different." He could feel Snape beginning to answer when there was a knock on the door. George's head poked in.

"Hello Severus, Harry." He sidled into the room, obviously aware of the thick tension hanging in the room, "I just wanted to update you on the Donald situation." He nervously fluttered a hand in the air. "He still won't talk. And when we give him veritaserum he still only babbles about someone called the Umbra. I don't know what else we can do for now but to keep him under lock and key." George shrugged apologetically.

"Then for now we must wait, until we are all strong enough to deal with it." Snape said, "If there is nothing else," His eyes flashed, meeting Harry's, "I think we both need some rest." George gave a faint nod, and quickly left the room, effectively leaving them alone once more.

"Potter-"

"Goodnight Snape." He heard the potions master shift, and then all was quiet. So Harry closed his eyes, and prayed for sleep to come soon.

* * *

><p>Sleep was ages away for Severus. Dancing at the edge of his thoughts was Potter's confession. That perhaps the boy hadn't been as spoiled and loved everywhere as Severus had once believed. And now that he knew… Now that a barrier had been forced down, he could hear the echoes of it in Potter's voice. It sounded like his voice. Tinged with bitterness, and longing. It surprised him, that he had not recognized a kindred soul when the boy had first entered Hogwarts. Though perhaps the image of James Potter had simply overridden everything else there was to notice about the boy. Yes, that must be it. Severus may never have been a kind man, but he always prided himself on being a shrewd one. And to have been able to overlook someone who had suffered the same as he would be unforgivable if there had not been any outside circumstances.<p>

Guilt was not a feeling Severus was accustomed to, it gnawed at him, burning through his insides.

"Potter." There was no response, but Severus could feel another awareness in the darkness, so he knew the boy was awake.

"My mother was very proud. She used to say that looks were more important that intelligence. So you can already imagine how much of a disappointment I must have been to her. With a comically large nose, and hair that never seemed to look clean. And add a permanent scowl marring my features on top of that. Not to mention we were poor. So not even my wardrobe could make up for what my face lacked. So she mostly ignored me. Kept me out of the way. My father was no better; he never had time for me either. The only thing he did was drink and hit my mother. Sometimes he would hit me. Though not very often, I knew very well how to be invisible from his rages. No, she bore the brunt of his displeasure, and though she was a witch she never once raised her wand to him. And I didn't help her either, too scared myself to be able to protect a mother who never cared for me anyway. For a long time, my only friend was isolation, and I learned to love it well. I should have seen the signs of it in you. I should have pushed past the ill will I held for your father, but I didn't. I'm sorry."

There was no answer. But the some of the heaviness of guilt lifted from his chest, and Severus breathed a little easier. They may never be friends, but perhaps they would have a new respect for one another. Now that they had both exposed themselves to the other. And it was a sort of relief. To tell someone who was not close to him about his childhood, it was therapeutic even. Sighing he rolled over, desperately hoping that sleep would claim him.

"Thank you." It was so quiet it could have been a breath or a trick of his hearing. But Severus heard it, and kept it, and held it close. And then sleep did come for him. Thick and dreamless.

* * *

><p>The morning brought the worst seizure yet. Severus was aware of nothing but the creaking of his bones and rabid twitching of his muscles. And the circle of warmth that held him. Somewhere in his mind he knew it must be Potter who held him so. And it would have embarrassed him, despite their revelations last night, if his mind could focus on something besides the pain.<p>

It went on for what felt like years, but could only be minutes. Finally, he stilled. But Potter did not let go. Instead Severus could feel him minutely tightening his hold.

"Um, Snape…" He sounded discomfited, "I think we need to clean you up. I would have just cast a _scourgify…_ but you said any outside magic besides your potions might make the process harder so…" Confusion filled Severus's brain until he felt the warm wetness staining the sheets. Embarrassment flooded his face and he was sure his must be a crimson color. He had urinated. He had been so lost, so out of control that he had wet the bed. In front of Potter. A wave of sadness and anger crashed over him, that he should be subjected to such humiliation. The fact that the boy was trying to be casual about it only made matters worse. Severus surged from the bed, only to collapse the instant he tried to put weight on his feet.

"Snape!" He felt Potter's hands on him, pulling on his arms.

"Leave me!" He yelled and the hands vanished as though burned away, "Just leave!"

"Snape-"

"Out! Get out, Merlin dammit! Just go, leave!" Severus shuddered with the effort of trying to prop himself up. He heard footsteps quickly making their way to the door. And they stopped there and then slowly they came back. And once again there were hands on his arms, gently pulling him to a sitting position.

"Didn't you hear me Potter? Is something wrong with your hearing?!" Potter's face suddenly filled the line of his vision. And he saw anger there. A fierce, red hot rage.

"I heard you Snape. How could I not? But I chose to ignore you, because you need help. And yes this is embarrassing, and yes, I am probably the last person you would want in this situation. But I said I would help you, do you understand? I promised you that I would take care of you. And that means that I will help you with this. So you are going to deal with whatever you have to in order to make this okay. Because I am going to help you to the tub, and I am going to clean you up whether you want me to or not. We are going to _deal _with this." His nostrils flared with the force of his breathing and for a long time they only stared at each other.

Severus wasn't sure what changed, maybe he moved or altered the expression on his face, something. But suddenly Potter was lifting him from the floor and leading him to the bathroom. And maybe whatever Potter saw to make him start moving was really there, because Severus gave no objections. Even when the boy was turning on the water and filling it with fine smelling soaps. Even when he undressed him, pulling the soaked bed clothes off with care and snapping his fingers so that a house elf could remove them. Not even when Potter was lowering his weakened body in the freshly drawn bath. Not once did Severus Snape object. Not a single word of protestation crossed his lips.

And when Potter smiled once again, that open smile just like before.

He knew why.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N- Finally finished another chapter yay! By the way, I am looking for a beta reader so that I can get the chapters out faster while I write my hundreds of essays. Send me a mail if you're interested!

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><p>"<em>Ah, you've awoken, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you'll manage more than a few minutes this time around, hmm?" The voice was like oil dripping over the air. Harry took in a rasping breath; it burned his lungs and rattled his ribs. A shadow fell over him and he tensed, body shaking in anticipation of teeth against his flesh. He could still feel George next to him. He was still hanging on.<em>

"_You cannot keep him alive forever you know. Your magic is not endless. It won't hold up against the strain much longer." It was said almost sympathetically. Lovingly. "And when he dies, what will you do? I suppose you'll cry. People do that." Harry was crying already, but the empty eyed shadow was gracious enough to over look that. He could hear it shifting around, pacing. And behind it, perhaps an even worse sound was silence. But silence so stagnant and dead that he knew it was the creature, waiting for its master to allow it to feast once more._

"_Please." He couldn't count the times that word had crossed his lips. It seemed to both irritate and amuse the shadowy figure. _

"_Please. Please, please, please. That's all you ever say, Mr. Potter, don't you know another word?"_

"_Please."_

"_I don't know what you expect from me when you say that. Mercy maybe? I am already showing you mercy. Of course you don't see it now. No one ever understands the mercy until the end. But believe me when I say I have already saved you. In my own way. So please will do you no good. You are pleading for something I have already given. So say something else." The voice was good natured. Happy even… proud._

_But Harry's chapped lips and aching brain only produced one word._

"_Please."_

"_Enough." It was quiet, but angry. Harry shuddered, whimpered. "I said say something else. Can't you say something new? Are you broken? You are boring me. And you don't want me to be bored do you Mr. Potter? No, of course not. You're a good boy. Such a good boy." _

"_Please."_

_The pain, when it came, shattered him._

Harry woke with a gasp, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He took several deep breaths and then began to cough. It was the coughing that woke Snape.

"Potter?"

It took a minute for the coughs to subside, and when they did Harry sighed and leaned back on his pillow, closing his eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" The potions master sounded worried.

"Yeah. It was just a dream." Harry shuddered once more, "Or maybe a memory. That thing was there again." He opened his eyes. It had been two days since the peeing incident. And their relationship had been easier since. Harry supposed that after a man like Snape soiled himself in front of his once hated student; there was nothing left to embarrass him. And with the embarrassment factor eliminated, there was less awkward tension. Well, the bathing, when it was required, was still awkward. It was always a struggle not to look. Which was strange to Harry. Whenever he changed or showered in front of his old teammates he hadn't felt the need to size them up. But whenever he had to give Snape a bath his eyes couldn't help but wander and take stock of all the different features that made him up. Like the long scar across his left knee, or the mole on the back of his neck. There was something about the man's body that interested him. Which at first had bothered Harry, after all, he wasn't queer. But the more he thought of it, the more he realized that the way he felt about Snape's body was completely devoid of sexuality. It was almost as though Harry viewed it simply as being another part of the ex-professors personality. And hadn't he _always _been intrigued by that?

"What happened?"

"Not much. There was a lot of pain. And a feeling of foreboding. But it's strange. It never feels like a memory, not the way that I think of them at least. Memories, they always have a secondhand feel to them. Like my subconscious remembers living them. But these... These feel sharp, vivid." He heard Snape shift on his bed.

"Interesting. Have you considered the fact that they may not be memories?"

"What else could they be?" It was silent for a while before Snape answered.

"I'm not really sure. Maybe, maybe someone is sending these images to you. But they didn't actually happen. Let's toy with the idea that someone did erase you memories. But instead of simply leaving a few traps behind in your mind for whoever tried to access them, they created a link to your mind. It would allow them to send images that appear to be memories in order to fool you and me." He contemplated this.

"But how would he create a link into my mind? Don't you need permission for something like that? Or some sort of previous bond?" It was like Voldemort all over again.

"I don't know. I'll research it when I have the time and the strength. For now, everything we do will have to be based solely on assumptions, which is never academically recommended." Harry sighed again. A long drawn out sound.

"I just wish I could remember. Everything would be so much easier." He rubbed the skin between his eyes. Snape made a sound of agreement. Another sigh and Harry rolled out of bed. There was no use trying to sleep now, besides, it was seven in the morning anyway. High time for him to be getting up. He walked over to the table that held Snape's potions and selected one for the pain.

"Here," He handed it to the man, whose hand shook when he grasped it. Snape swallowed it with some effort and then grimaced.

"I feel like an invalid."

"You are an invalid. Do you need to pee?" Snape nodded and Harry helped him out of bed and to the toilet where they began the uncomfortable process of peeing. It was over quickly however and Harry returned Snape to his bed.

"I'm going to go see if Hermione is here yet, she usually is before work. I have some ideas for the resistance I'd like to run by her. Will you be alright on your own for a bit?" Snape snorted.

"I'm not a child being left alone with a hot stove, Potter. I'll be fine." Harry grinned.

"Good. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He made his way out of the room and down the stairs, the way to the kitchen. He knew the path like the back of his hand at this point. And the kitchen was usually the place Hermione was to be found. Indeed when he pushed open the door he found her having an argument with a house elf.

"Doris, I am perfectly capable of making my own tea." She stood with her arms folded across her chest, while the house elf in question continued to bustle around the kitchen, collecting all the tea things.

"Misses Granger being quiet now. Misses Granger be letting Doris make her tea." She fiddled around for a bit before she had the tea going. House elf magic allowed for it to be done far quicker than normally and in a minute she had a perfect cup of tea and a small peach tart sat on the table.

"Honestly Doris!" Hermione exclaimed, though she still sat down. It was then that she noticed Harry, who had until then been leaning against the door frame. "Hello Harry. Care for a cup of tea."

He shook his head, "No thank you." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Doris look a bit crestfallen. "But some eggs would be nice." The elf perked up immediately and set to work.

"Doris no I can- oh bother. Harry, you shouldn't have let her make it for you." Harry shrugged.

"You let her make you tea. Besides, she likes the work. Don't you Doris?" Doris didn't respond but he could swear she smiled a bit.

"I didn't let her," Hermione sniffed, "She overruled me. Besides, not all house elves like working Harry. That is an archaic misconception."

"That might be so, thank you Doris," She slid the plate of eggs, and added bacon, in front of him, "But some of them do, and you shouldn't deny them their happiness." The eggs, when he bit into them, were cooked to fluffy perfection and the bacon was soggy, just how he liked it. Though how Doris knew he liked it that way was a mystery.

"Yes but they should still be _paid _happy or not." Hermione bristled taking a sip of her tea, "Anyway, I was there a reason you're down here. You've hardly been out of Snape's room since you started helping him. You two are shut up like a couple of dungeon bats in there." Harry smiled at the analogy.

"True, I don't like to leave him for too long, he has fits. But I wanted to talk to you about the resistance effort."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows shot up into her hair line, "What about it."

"Well, I was wondering whether or not I should maybe go to the Ministry. See the Minister or something and find out as much as I can about their agenda. And maybe patch things up with Ron, so that we have someone on the inside as well." Hermione frowned and sat back in her chair.

"What?" Harry asked when she stayed silent.

"Nothing, its just… Harry you were so adamant about not helping that this is a bit of a shock. I mean, are you sure you want in. Because this is one of those things you can't back out of once you're in."

"I know that, and I know I was being selfish before but, I don't know. I want to help." She still didn't look convinced.

"Harry-"

"I get it, okay? I was a right bastard before, but now that I'm involved with people that it affects, I can't just sit by and let it happen. And I've been thinking. When Snape first confronted me, he told me that I couldn't escape my celebrity, that people would expect things from me even if I didn't give anything. And he was right, sitting here and moping that people need my help isn't going to change anything. They'll still need me, and I maybe don't owe it to them to help, but I owe it to you, and to George and Oliver. And even to Snape. Please, let me help."

"Alright. Okay. When Snape is better, you can go to the Ministry. Of course, we'll have to sit down and plan first, Minister Goode isn't an idiot he won't be fooled by you suddenly showing up and questioning him. Maybe we should start having you walk around in the public, so it won't be so out of the blue. In the meantime, you can study some wizarding law." Harry groaned, "Hey, you said you wanted to help." A smile spread across her face, so wide that Harry couldn't help but smile back.

"I did say that, didn't I?" They finished the rest of their meal in amiable silence. Harry would never have said it out loud, but he had had the feeling that Hermione was disappointed in him. Now that he had volunteered to help the air between them felt clear again.

It was a good feeling.

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><p>Something was wrong at the Ministry. Something slithered in the back of his mind. The Department of Mysteries was in a flurry. People from other departments coming in and out all looking hurried. Even Peterson dropped his normal threats for the sake of time. Though it might also be because of the way their last encounter ended, rather pleasantly for Draco, and rather violently for Peterson. Yes, something serious was amuck. Not that anyone would tell him what was the matter. Well, perhaps Granger would but she was so busy at the moment she would probably bite his head off if he even came within a meter of her office.<p>

"Oi! I've got some important documents from the Minister, hand them over to your overseer, and only her, understand?" A pudgy man was shoving a pile a manila colored folders under his nose. Draco gave him the coldest look that he could muster. One that said _I might be the secretary to a muggle-born but I'm still a Malfoy and that makes me better than you_. From the looks of it the message was received as the man sniffed, drew back, and elected to place the folders on his desk instead.

"Yes, thank you. I'll make sure she gets them." He shuddered a little. Being a secretary was awful, but Granger was the only one who would hire him after his stint in Azkaban and with the dark mark still flush against his skin.

"See that you do." The man squeaked, attempting at condescension but achieving only hesitation. Draco sneered once more and lightly picked up the stack of documents.

Granger was huddled up inside her office with what practically amounted to mountains of paperwork on her desk. She didn't notice him at first, which gave Draco plenty of time to observe her. Her mouth was tight with tension, and she was so hunched over her desk that her nose nearly touched the surface. Her hair was all out of sorts and her nails where bitten and frayed. Hopeful he would break her out of that disgusting habit. Nails held an infinite amount of germs. And she was putting all of them in her mouth. Draco wrinkled his nose thinking about it before clearing his throat.

"What? Oh, Draco, yes what do you need?" She sounded absolutely exhausted. He held out the files.

"They're from the Minister." Granger sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"Great, simply fantastic, just put it on the pile of other things I need to get done by today."

"What is going on today? Do you know?"

"Not really, something to do with the new laws. It's been a lot of paperwork for everyone in every department. I think they're trying to pass some sort of law that will eliminate trials in the cases of homosexual witches and wizards. I don't know what they need our department for; it's been a bloody mess." Her hand went to her mouth, and she nibbled on her nails. Draco had to physically restrain himself from smacking them away. He was after all a Malfoy, and even a disgraced Malfoy did not stoop to such things. Instead he fixed her with a glare.

"That is disgusting Granger. Do you know what's all _under _your fingernails?" He sniffed and Granger immediately flushed crimson.

"I know, I can't help it, I've done it since I was a child." Her voice reached the tender tones of a whine. "I've tried to stop honestly, but I just don't think about it. And usually I'm very good about it, but all this stress. Ugh!" Her head slammed into the desk, cushioned a little by her arms.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness Granger, isn't that what some muggle once said?" He couldn't hear her reply so he powered on, "Shall I get you some coffee?"

"Mrphl." Was the reply. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Have you no manners? How do you expect me to hear you when you've buried your face in paper? Fine, I'll not get you any coffee." He turned dramatically on his heel and went to grandly sweep out the door.

"Wait!" Her voice was desperate, "I said thank you. Please, coffee would be divine." He would have told her it was too late were it not for that god awful doe-eyed look she was shooting him. He had always been susceptible to puppy looks; it was how Pansy and his mother had always exercised control over him. He was powerless before it. Which was something that, naturally, irritated him to no end. No one should have such power over a Malfoy.

"Right then." He left the office, hunted down some coffee, just cream the way she liked it, and returned. "Here, don't work yourself to hard. Okay?" His voice softened.

Granger look startled at that, her eyes widened comically and she leaned back in her chair, ignoring the coffee Draco had been nice enough to get her.

"What?" He snapped.

"Nothing, I just. Didn't think we were… I dunno that invested in each other's well being. I always thought that you just considered me an acquaintance. And not one you particularly liked either." She shrugged and Draco could see her collarbone shift underneath her sweater.

"Don't read so much into Granger. You're the only person that would hire me. Of course I'm concerned for your well being. What would I do if you collapsed and died of exhaustion?"

"I'm not the only one who would hire you."

"Yes you are."

"Malfoy-"

"You _are_. Don't think that I say this from some misguided sense of self pity either. You were literally the only person who would hire me. No one else even considered it. Not only was I in Azkaban, but I was a death eater. A Malfoy. And if there is a family with a more stained reputation then ours, I'll be damned to meet them. Honestly Granger, are you really so naïve that the way society treats people like me is lost on you? Not everyone is as forgiving as you." He spoke quietly, hating that it was true.

"I'm sorry," Granger sat blinking, "I really never thought about it. It makes me feel like such a jerk, not thinking about how hard life is for you, and others like you. It was very self-centered of me never to have even considered it." She frowned at him.

"Yeah, well. Like I said, don't collapse or anything." Then she smiled at him, the corners of her mouth just barely darting up.

"I'll try my best."

Draco nodded and awkwardly stood in her office for a moment longer before quickly leaving and returning to his post. There were a few more files waiting for him on his desk, all with explicit instructions to be given to Granger _immediately_. But Draco thought she deserved a little bit of a break, so he shoved them away in his desk and when Granger's head poked out a few minutes later asking if anything else had come for her, he lied.

And it was probably one of the most rewarding lies he had ever told, if the way her face lit up with relief was any indication.

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><p>Harry made his way back up to Snape's room. After Hermione had left he had checked in on him, got him breakfast and put him back to sleep. Then he and George looked in on Donald, who was still trapped in the room, refusing to answer their questions. He spent the next bit of time to study wizarding law. Which if he was going to be honest was some of the driest and most convoluted swill he had ever had to suffer through. There were so many contradictions and exceptions and loopholes that it made his head spin. Shaking his head he looked down at the one book he had decided to bring with him in order to torture himself further. It was <em>Morgan's Eight Necessary Trial Procedures and Court Laws<em>. The book was extremely daunting considering it only held _eight_ laws. Sighing Harry pushed the door open.

Snape was lying down facing the door with his eyes open unbearably wide and his lips moving. At first Harry thought he was awake, but then he realized that there was actual noise coming from the man, and that he was far paler than he should be and that his eyes focused on nothing. He dropped the book forgotten on the floor and strode over the few steps that led him to the potions master's side.

"Snape?"

"Please. Please, Lily I'm sorry." It was so quiet Harry had to strain to catch it.

"Snape? Are you alright."

"I couldn't stop him, I tried but I couldn't… please…" Harry reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, which turned out to be the exact wrong thing to do. Where Snape had been quiet before now he was screaming. Screaming and thrashing.

"Please Lily! I protected you! I always protected you please, please say something! Look at me anything Lily! I'm sorry!"

"Snape! Calm down, you need to calm down! Can you hear me?" Harry gripped the man tighter, shaking him a bit.

"I couldn't get there in time to stop it, I didn't know in time. He didn't tell me! Listen to me, he didn't tell me! Why won't you look at me? I need to see your face; I need to know I'm forgiven Lily please!" There were tears streaming from his eyes now. The salty water staining Harry's shirt as he pressed him close. Snape struggled, but Harry held tight.

"I love you, you are the only woman I ever loved, Lily don't you understand?! It was all my fault, my fault you died! It's always my fault, Lily… say something… forgive me…"

Harry held him once again, until the sobs stopped and the ranting trickled down to only one word. He knew what Snape had seen. Of course he knew, and it pained him to know what horrors Snape must have gone through in order to have demons so powerful. And he wished he could stop it. He wished he could make Snape stop hurting.

"Please…" The word echoed throughout the room, over and over Severus said it. Please, please, please.

And Harry had to call him Severus now, didn't he?


	17. Chapter 17

A/N- Thank you to my beta reader paige93! I'll try to get another chapter out on Christmas as a present for you all!

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><p>The Minister's office was almost unbearably uncomfortable. When Fudge had been in office the whole place had been lushly decorated to the point of obscenity, even Scrimgeour had had a few plump armchairs placed throughout the room to offer comfortable seating and some pictures of his family on the walls to make the office his own. But now the place was bare. There were no pictures hanging on the wall, or sitting on the desk. In fact the only thing on it was the long name plate reading Dashe Goode. The chair Harry was sitting in was wooden and high-backed, and the carpets had been replaced by dull wood floors; and he could hear the ticking of a clock but couldn't, for the life of him, figure out where it was coming from. It was in this room that he had been waiting for the past thirty minutes. Just as he was getting ready to get up and leave, plan be damned, the door behind him creaked open and Harry had to physically restrain himself from looking.<p>

"Ah, Mr. Potter. To what do I owe the honor? You haven't been in the Ministry since your failed attempt at the Auror program." The voice attempted at the silky smooth tones Severus's achieved, but it fell short. Minister Goode glided quietly to his desk; robes swishing just bellow his ankles. He was a thin man, with long spindly arms and long spindly legs. He was tall too. Standing at perhaps six feet; maybe a bit more. And his face held a cold, calculating intelligence. From what Harry could remember reading about the man, he wasn't even that old. Only sixty-one when he took office and that was ten years ago. His thin mouth was turned up in a false smile. Harry bared his teeth back; ignoring the little barb about the Auror program he was sure the Minister had said intending to hurt him.

"Just to talk, I felt as though I'd been out of the loop of information for so long. It's about time for a change, you know?" Minister Goode narrowed his brown eyes and Harry saw the gears whirring, flickering over all different explanations for Harry's being there.

"That is all very well Mr. Potter. But unless you have a legitimate concern or problem I do not see how I can help you. The Minister is not here to simply have heart to heart conversations with his subordinates." The words came out slowly, the way one fashions their voice when talking to a child claiming to be a dragon.

"That's an interesting word to use. Subordinates." Harry let the word roll around his mouth, tasting it.

"Is it? Do I not hold power over the Wizarding community? Am I not the elected leader? Do I not make decisions for these people? Now I'll ask again, do you have a legitimate concern that you would like to direct at me. I am a very busy man you see. I have no time for pleasantries." He smiled a shark's smile.

"Actually it's about Law 1374." Something flashed behind the Minister's eyes. Something cold, and bright, and alive.

"What about it?" He leaned forward. Not a lot, in fact it was barely a centimeters worth of movement. Yet Harry had been watching, and he saw the intake of breath and the slight strain of his collar as his throat pressed against it.

"Well I was only wondering sir, why now?" It was the question Hermione had told him to ask. They had decided that the Minister was far too clever a man to be fooled by Harry coming in and claiming to support his agenda, or any other ploy that would lead him to give away his plans. So they would have to partially expose Harry as a supporter of homosexual rights and read the Minister's expressions. It was risky, and certainly something Harry didn't want to do… but needs must.

"What do you mean, why now? This law had been here since the beginning of Wizarding legislation."

"True, but it was not actively effective until now, until you, sir. I wanted to know why."

"Mr. Potter, this law has been used to protect Wizarding society and procreation since the-"

"It's personal. Isn't it? Marilynn Cook, she was the first. She started it all. What could she have done, to make you do this?" Minister Goode snarled.

"Marilynn Cook was a flagrant homosexual who deserved the fate that was brought to her. I am the Minister of Magic, I am the Law. I am Justice for the people and I brought justice the day I condemned Marilynn Cook for her sins." Harry had expected the outburst, the Minister's eyes were brown chips of ice filled with anger… and something else Harry couldn't name, and he could see the muscles of his arms straining underneath his robes. All very telling signs… and everything had to do with Marilynn Cook, somehow.

"I can see I've offended you." Harry began in the most placating manner he could accomplish, it was enough for today. Any further and he would get himself into trouble. "Perhaps I'll come back another time." He stood from the chair and quietly made his way to the door.

"Do be careful, Mr. _Potter_… for I have eyes in all places." The Minister was standing; Harry noted when he turned around. He was still behind his desk, one hand outstretched in the air, as though he thought he could reach Harry, even from such a distance. The other hand was curled over the name plate, his ring finger caressing the 'H' in his name. The Minister smiled once more, all teeth, lips pulling harshly back over his gums. "Do run along now." Harry suppressed the shudders that tried to squirm over his spin and quickly left the office. He wasn't so sure that this was such a good plan after all. Now he was on Goode's radar, now he was a target.

The young blonde secretary nodded and smiled at him as he left. Harry nodded back before practically jogging down the hallway. The encounter had left a rotten taste in his mouth, and the feeling that he was missing something important. He walked as quickly as he could without looking suspicious until he was nearly out of the Ministry. It was when he was just passing the fire places that he ran into someone he wished he hadn't.

"Harry?" The voice was startled and squeaked a little at the end.

Harry turned slowly, taking in the red hair, freckled face, and wide, hopeful blue eyes. Talking to Ron hadn't been on the agenda today, Hermione had said that confrontation should wait. Now here he was, wringing the sleeve of his Auror robes between his hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Ron." He wanted to say more. To say that he had missed him, that he just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. That he was sorry. So sorry. He wanted to yell at him for being such a prick, hit him… kill him for what he did to George. But none of that came out. Instead there was a silence that lay thick over them. Ron shifted and refused to meet Harry's eyes.

"It's been a while." He finally said, the words coming out so quietly Harry had to strain to hear. But he did hear them. Ron had said them just loud enough that Harry could ignore them, if he wanted to. He didn't want to.

"Yeah," He had to clear his throat, and then look away when Ron's eyes lit up and found his face.

"Suppose that's my fault though… isn't it." There was no question in it.

"You're a right bastard." It didn't come out nearly as biting as Harry would have liked. Instead it fell flat. Ron looked down again, running a shaking hand through his hair. "A bastard and a fool. What were you thinking?" Harry knew he shouldn't exactly be talking about such things here. Too many people snapped up in the Minister's pocket. Too many chances to be overheard. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose harshly finding relief in the small pain. "Look. Ron… not here… alright? We'll talk later. I swear. But not here."

"Y-yeah… yeah. Alright Harry." He looked like a kicked puppy and suddenly Harry saw red. He wanted to hit him. To hurt him. How could he look so sad, so betrayed after what he did? How dare he! His hands itched and it took him a moment to realize that they had actually stretched towards Ron. Harry dropped them to his sides and took a last look at Ron. The man simply looked accepting now. As though if Harry had reached out and hit him, strangled him the way his hands wanted to, that he would have let him. It was a poisonous thought, this idea of permission. But instead Harry turned, shaking out his hands and making it the last few steps out of the Ministry.

He would talk to Ron, some day. One day when they could be civil with one another.

When Harry's hands didn't burn and tremble with the need to murder his once best friend.

* * *

><p>Hermione sipped at her tea, breathing in its spicy aroma. They were all gathered around Severus's bed. Everyone nursing their own drink, except Snape who said his stomach wouldn't keep it down at this point in the withdrawal.<p>

"So, you think it all has to do with Marilynn Cook?" She asked, setting the china cup and little saucer down on the bedside table. Harry nodded he had explained everything, leaving out the part where he ran into Ron. That was for just for him.

"You should have seen him when I mentioned her name. When I said it might be personal. He didn't just hate her as a homosexual; he hated her as an individual. It has to be some sort of personal vendetta."

"She ran against him, the very first time he ran for a Council position he was beaten by Marilynn Cook." Snape spoke up from the bed, "She won by a landslide. And Goode is very old fashioned, a misogynist to the very end. He was upset for quite some time after that, led several campaigns to get her impeached. There's bad blood between them, as bad as the blood between the Malfoys and the Weasleys." Hermione frowned.

"But is that enough for this? And why would he do this so late after winning the election? This doesn't seem as simple as retribution for what he sees as past insults. I'll have to research. Find out exactly what Marilynn had been doing in the weeks prior to her imprisonment. And in the mean time, I have another meeting to organize, a bigger one this time. The radio show has been going well. But we'll need more than that if we're going to keep everyone engaged." She stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off her lap. "I'm going to head home. Get everything set up, then go to the Ministry to do some research, unless you boys need anything else?" The men shook their heads, "Alright. I'll come by tomorrow after work. It's good that you did this Harry, it's given me a lot to think about and work on."

Hermione left tossing a few more farewells on her way out the door. When she apparated to her flat she just wanted to crawl into her bed and not come out for a year or two. But there was work to be done. Always work to be done. She stayed just long enough to get a little bit of food in her before heading off to the Ministry. She needed access to the archives there, more importantly the security footage from the days prior to Ms. Cook's incarceration. Luckily the attendants there rarely questioned her. She worked in the Department of Mysteries after all.

She made her way to the back rows were the wispy memories of the front desk guards were kept. Each day the guards from each department and the front desk deposited their memories and this was how the Ministry kept security footage. Hermione started with the week before, pulling the designated memories down from the shelf. She brought it carefully to a viewing desk and with a deep breath, submerged her head. She saw herself; Malfoy, Ron, and even Lavender Brown come in. But after an hour of viewing there was no sign of Marilynn. The last memory drifted out and Hermione's head popped up. She rubbed her face with her hand. She was going to be here for a while. Casting a quick tempus charm she noted that it was only five in the evening. She would stay, for another few hours, and save the rest for another day.

Three more days of memories later and still, there was no sign of Marilynn Cook. Perhaps she hadn't even come to the Ministry. But Hermione knew she had. She occasionally came in to visit her great-great niece. Who was a receptionist for the Department of Illegal Spell Use.

"I've just about had it with you Marilynn Cook. Either you show up in these next memories, or I'll kill you myself." Hermione grumbled, plunging her head into the next one.

She knew immediately that something was wrong. The corners of the memory were all fuzzy, dipping in and out along the edges of her sight. Everything sounded strange, like it was all far away. It had obviously been tampered with, and the person who had done it hadn't minded to do it well because they had probably assumed no one would come looking. It was a just in case thing. A failsafe. It would take her a while to fix what was wrong, definitely more than the few hours she had left. She had two choices. Get the original memory from the guard who saw her, something that might take weeks. Or fix it by hand. Which would require a lot of time and magic. But she could do it.

After all... she was Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age.

* * *

><p>"So you really think that it all has to do with Marilynn Cook?" Severus's voice drifted from the bed. Harry sat up in his own and yawned a little.<p>

"Yeah." He leaned back. Goode had been too upset. It wasn't the sort of anger you felt towards someone you didn't know, or who hadn't hurt you. It was raw and powerful. But Harry didn't think it had to do with him losing his first election either. His eyes, they had seemed… frightened. He had seemed scared. When Harry had mentioned her name. At first, he thought it was only anger and disgust that the Minister was feeling. But then Harry remembered the something else, the not-quite emotion he had seen but not identified. Goode was scared. Marilynn Cook had to have known something, she had to have. Nothing else could cause such fear.

"He was scared. When I said her name. When I said it was personal. He was scared. I think she knew something." He heard the other man grunt in the darkness.

"Perhaps you are right. But, what could she have known? What is so bad that he could justify the extermination of an entire group of people?"

"We all have skeletons in our closets Snape. We all have secrets."

"This is more than a secret Potter. The man is killing for this… killing… and none of us are safe until we find out what he is hiding."

"Then we'll just have to find out. Won't we? Don't worry, with Hermione researching it, we'll have it all figured out in no time." Harry rolled over, punching his pillow back into shape. The words felt true, Hermione was the best he knew. If there was deceit to be ferreted out, she could do it.

After all… she was Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age.

* * *

><p>Sorry it's so short, next one will be long I promise!<p> 


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